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TASTING 





THE FIVE SENSES 


By 


ANGELA M. KEYES 

ILLUSTRATED 

BY 

JESSIE WILLCOX SMITH 


NEW YORK 

MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY 
1911 





Copyright, 1910, by 

MOFFAT. YARD AND COMPANY 
New York 


A// Rights Reserved 


Published, September, 1911 


FOREWORD 


HERE IS AN EASY BOOK OF JOYOUS LITERA- 
TURE FOR THE CHILDREN. IT IS FULL OF GOOD 
THINGS. 

IT WILL HELP NOT ONLY TO QUICKEN THE 
CHILDREN’S SENSES, BUT TO BROADEN THEIR 
SYMPATHY AND ENRICH THEIR CULTURE. BEST 
OF ALL IT WILL PLEASE THEM. 

SOME OF IT MAY BE PLAYED AS WELL AS READ. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

The writer is indebted to Lady Rosalind Northcote in The Book of 
Herbs, John Lane Company, for herb lore used in The Herb Shop; 
to Mrs. Miln, in Little Folk from Many Lands, Charles Scribner^s 
Sons, for information used in The Children's Festival; to the Hough- 
ton Mifflin Company for the two selections of Mr. Frank Dempster 
Sherman and to Mr. Dillon in the Nineteenth Century of April, 1894, 
for information used in The Japanese Games of Perfumes. 


CONTENTS 


I 

TASTING 


PAGE 


A Live Potato 

Hans Christian Andersen . 

3 

The Cow 

Robert Louis Stevenson 

4 

The Mouse and the Sausage . 

A French Tale . . . 

5 

A Problem 

Old Rhyme 

7 

Oeyvind and Marit 

Bjornstjerne Bjorns on . 

8 

The Tree 

Bjornstjerne Bjornson . 

13 

The Best Prize 


14 

The Dwarf Roots’ Story of the 



Pumpkin Seed 

Angela M. Keyes .... 

17 

Mine Host of ‘‘ The Golden Ap- 



ple ” 

Thomas Westzvood . . . . 

22 

Two Wild Creatures at Meals . 

Angela M. Keyes .... 

23 

The Cat and the Parrot .... 

Eastern Folk Tale . 

26 

The Windmill 

Henry W adszvorth LongfeUozv 

30 

Table Rules for Little Folks . 


32 


II 

SMELLING 

Why the Honeysuckle Came Out at 


Night Angela M. Keyes .... 37 

A Song of Clover '' Saxe Holm '' 41 

A Game of What We Saw in the 

Giant's Castle Angela M. Keyes .... 42 

vii 


CONTENTS 


viii 


The Fragrant Tulip Bed . ,• 

Violets 

The Japanese Game of Perfumes 
Little White Lily .... 
The Snail and the Rose Tree . 
The Herb Shop 


Angela M. Keyes . 
Dinah Maria Muloch . 


George Macdonald . 
Hans Christian Andersen 
Angela M. Keyes . 


Ill 

TOUCHING 


The Elf and the Dormouse . 

A Riddle 

The Elves and the Shoemaker . 

Little Brown Hands 

Jack the Giant Killer . . . . 

Bees 

A Chill 

What Black Beauty Did 

The Story and Game of Going to 

School 

Agnese and Her Fruit Stand . 
Good and Bad Apples .... 

Whittling 

The Flax • . . . 

The Masque of the Five Senses . 


Oliver Herford . 


Folk Tale 


English Folk Talc . 
Frank D. Sherman . 
Christina G. Rossetti . 
Anna Sewell 

Angela M. Keyes . 
Angela M. Keyes . 

John Pierpont . 

Hans Christian Andersen 
Angela M. Keyes . , 


IV 

HEARING 

Babes in the Wood . 

The Table and the Chair . . . Edward Lear 
Lower Than the Beasts . . . , An Old Tale 

Windy Nights Robert Louis Stevenson 

A Boy’s Song James Hogg .... 

What Frank Heard Angela M. Keyes 


PAGE 

44 

47 

48 

53 

55 

57 


76 

78 

79 

82 

84 

87 

88 

89 


92 

96 

106 

115 

117 

123 


143 

145 

147 

151 

152 
154 


CONTENTS 


IX 


PAGE 

To-morrow 159 

The Children’s Festival .... Angela M. Keyes . . . .160 

Deaf and Dumb 167 

The Nightingale Hans Christian Andersen . .168 

What the Birds Heard from Fran- 
cis 181 

V 

SEEING 

The Dragon Fly Hans Christian Andersen . . 168 

The Lost Doll Charles Kingsley . . . .185 

The Moon Charles Kingsley . . . .188 

How the Flowers Kept Turning 189 

Around Angela M. Keyes .... 190 

Romance Gabriel Setoun 195 

What Happens to the Flowers . Angela M. Keyes . . . .197 

The Peddlar’s Caravan .... William B. Rands .... 206 

What I Saw a Sparrow Do 207 

The Blind Boy Colley Cibber 209 

How the Wind Gave a Prize 210 

Watching a Fly 215 

What Came Into the Garden . . Angela M. Keyes .... 219 

The Lamplighter Robert Louis Stevenson . . 224 

Seeing Squirrels ’ 225 

Seeing Chipmunks 228 

What Came of It Angela M. Keyes .... 230 

Seeing Rabbits 231 

A Riddle Hannah More 232 

The Shadows Frank Dempster Sherman . . 233 

The Months: A Pageant . . . Vernon L. Kellogg . . . .235 

What I Saw a Wasp Do 238 

Three Pairs and One . 252 


4 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Tasting 

- - - - Frontispiece 


FACING PAGE 

Smelling - 

36 

Touching - 

72 

Hearing 

142 

Seeing 



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TASTING 



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1 


''A drop of sour mixed with the sweet. 

You’ll -find in all things good to eat,” 
Grown folks say it’s always so, 

And I’ve found out that grown folks know. 


THE FIVE SENSES 


A LIVE POTATO 

/^NCE, as an old woman sat out in a potato field, hold- 
ing a large potato in her hand, it came alive and be- 
gan to talk about itself. 

“When we first went to Europe,” it said, “people did 
not know us. The King sent word to every house how 
good we are and how well we should be treated. But 
no one believed it. 

“No one knew even how to plant us. One rnan dug 
a hole and threw his bushel of potatoes into it. An- 
other stuck his potatoes in the ground, one here, another 
there, and waited for them to grow. He thought they 
would shoot up into potato trees and bear potatoes, just 
as apple trees bear apples. There came buds, and 
stems, and flowers, and watery fruit, but it all withered 
away. 

“By and by men thought of digging into the earth, and 
there at last they found us.” 

“Well, I found you there, anyway,” said the old 
woman, “and you’ll find yourself in the pot next.” 

And it did. 

FROM HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 


3 


4 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE COW 

T he friendly cow all red and white, 
I love with all my heart : 

She gives me cream with all her might, 
To eat with apple-tart. 

She wanders lowing here and there. 
And yet she cannot stray. 

All in the pleasant open air. 

The pleasant light of day; 

And blown by all the winds that pass 
And wet with all the showers, 

She walks among the meadow grass 
And eats the meadow flowers. 


ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 


THE FIVE SENSES 


5 


THE MOUSE AND THE SAUSAGE 

/^NCE upon a time a little mouse and a little sausage 
loved each other so much they made up their minds 
to live together. They planned that every other day 
one might go to walk in the fields, or to town to buy 
food; and the other stay at home to keep the house tidy. 

One day when the little mouse got back from town she 
found the little sausage had cooked cabbage for dinner. 
The little mouse had brought home a good appetite, and 
she enjoyed the cabbage greatly. 

‘Tittle dear,” she said, “how delicious the cabbage is 
to-day.” 

“Ah!” answered the little sausage, “that is because I 
popped myself into the pot while it was cooking.” 

The next day, as it was her turn to get the meals ready, 
the little mouse said to herself, “Now I will do as much 
for my friend as she did for me. We shall have lentils 
for dinner, and I will jump into the pot while they are 
boiling.” So she did, without stopping to think that a 
simple sausage can do some things not to be attempted 
by even the wisest mouse. 

When the sausage came home she found the house 
lonely and silent. She called again and again, “My lit- 


6 


THE FIVE SENSES 


tie mouse! Mouse of my heart!” But no one an- 
swered. Then she went to look at the lentils boiling on 
the stove. Alas ! there was her good friend, boiled dead 
for love of her. 

The poor sausage could never get over the grief of it. 
That is why to-day, when you put one in the pan or on 
a gridiron you will hear her weep and sigh, “M-my 
p-poor m-mouse! M-my p-poor m-mouse!” 

French tale 

(I’ve set this story down here, though some may think it has more 
to do with love than sausages. Others may think it hasn’t. Let us 
not puzzle our heads over the question. The story’s the thing.) 


THE FIVE SENSES 


7 . 


A PROBLEM 

I F all the land were apple pie, 

And all the sea were ink; 

And all the trees were bread and cheese, 

What should we do for drink? 

Old rhyme 


THE FIVE SENSES 


OEYVIND AND MARIT 

^ INHERE was once a boy named Oeyvind who lived in 
a hut on the side of a steep rocky hill. On the roof 
of the hut walked a little goat. Oeyvind kept it there 
so that it might not go astray, and he carried up leaves 
and grass to it. 

But one fine day the goat leaped down. Away it went 
up the hill. It went straight up and came where it never 
had been before. When Oeyvind ran out of the hut 
after dinner he missed his little goat and at once thought 
of the fox. He looked all about, calling, ‘'Killy-killy- 
killy-goat!’’ 

'‘Bay-ay-ay,” said the goat, from the top of the hill, 
as it cocked its head on one side and looked down. And 
there at the side of the goat kneeled a little girl. 

“Is it yours, this goat?” she asked. 

Oeyvind stared at her, with eyes and mouth wide open, 
and asked, “Who are you?” 

“I am Marit, mother’s little one, father’s fiddle, grand- 
father’s elf, four years old in the autumn, two days after 
the frost nights. 

“Are you?” he said, as soon as he could get his breath. 

“Is it yours, this goat?” she asked. 


OEYVIND AND MARIT 


9 


‘"Yes,” he said. 

‘‘I should like it. You will not give it to me?” 

‘‘No, that I won’t.” 

Marit lay down kicking her legs and looking down at 
him, and then she said, “Not if I give you a buttercake 
for it?” 

“Let me see the buttercake first?” said he. 

It didn’t take her long to pull out a large cake. “Here 
it is,” she said, and threw it down to him. 

“Ow, it went to pieces,” said the boy. He gathered up 
every crumb, and he couldn’t help tasting a very, very 
small one. That was so good he had to eat another. 
Before he knew it, he had eaten up the whole cake. 

“Now the goat is mine,” said the girl, and she laughed 
and clapped her hands. The boy stopped with the last 
bit in his mouth. 

“Wait a little while,” he begged, for he loved his little 
goat. 

The small girl got up quickly. “No, the goat is 
mine,” she said, and threw her arms around its neck. 
She loosened one of her garters and fastened it round the 
goat’s neck and began pulling the goat after her. The 
goat would not follow; it twisted its neck down to see 
Oeyvind. 

“Bay-ay-ay,” it said. But the girl took hold of its hair 
with one hand and pulled the string with the other and 
said gently “Come, little goat, you shall go into my room 
and eat out of my apron.” And then she sang 


lO 


THE FIVE SENSES 


‘Come, boy’s goat. 

Come, mother’s calf. 

Come, mewing cat 
In snow-white shoes; 

Come, yellow ducks, 

Come out of your hiding place; 

Come, little chickens, 

Who can hardly go ; 

Come, my doves 
With soft feathers; 

See, the grass is wet. 

But the sun does you good : 

And early, early, is it in summer/ ” 

And away she went with the goat, calling on all liv- 
ing things she loved to follow. 

The boy stood as still as a stone. He had taken care 
of the goat since the winter before and he had never 
thought he would lose it. But now it was gone in a mo- 
ment for a buttercake and he would never see it again. 
He lay down and wept. 

His mother came along, and saw him crying, so she 
went up to him. 

''What are you crying about?” 

"O, the goat, the goat!” 

"Yes, where is the goat?” asked his mother, looking up 
at the roof. 

"It will never come back,” said the boy. 

"Dear me! how could that happen?” 

He could not tell at once. 


OEYVIND AND MARIT 


II 


‘‘Has the fox taken it?” 

“No, O, no ” 

“Are your wits gone?” said his mother; “what has be- 
come of the goat?” 

“Oh-h-h — I sold it for — for — a cake!” 

As soon as he had said the word he knew better what 
it was to sell the goat for a cake. 

“What can the little goat think of you, to sell it for 
a cake?” said his mother. 

The boy felt so sorry that he said to himself he would 
never again do anything wrong. He would never cut 
the thread on the spinning wheel, he would never let the 
goats out, he would never go down to the sea alone. 
He fell asleep where he lay and he dreamed that the lit- 
tle goat had gone to heaven and that he sat alone on the 
roof and could not go to it. 

Suddenly there came something wet close up to his 
car. He started up. “Bay-ay-ay!” it said. It was the 
goat, come back. 

“What! have you come back?” he cried. He jumped 
up, took it by the forelegs, and danced with it as if it 
were a brother. He tickled it and pulled its beard, and 
set off with it to the hut to tell his mother the good news. 

Just then he heard someone behind him. There was 
the little girl. 

“Oh, so it was you who brought it back?” said he. 

“Grandfather would not let me keep it,” said she; “he 
is waiting near for me.” 


12 


THE FIVE SENSES 


A sharp voice called out, '‘Now!” It was her grand- 
father’s and she remembered what she was to do. She 
put one of her muddy hands into Oeyvind’s and said, 
'T beg your pardon for taking the little goat.” Then 
she could keep in no longer; she threw her arms around 
the goat’s neck and wept aloud. 

"You may have the goat,” said Oeyvind. 

"Make haste,” cried grandfather. Marit had to go. 
So Oeyvind had his little goat again. 

BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 


THE FIVE SENSES 


13 


THE TREE 

T he Tree’s early leaf buds were bursting their brown; 
‘^Shall I take them away?” said the Frost, sweeping 
down. 

‘‘No, leave them alone 
Till the blossoms have grown,” 

Prayed the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown. 

The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung. 

“Shall I take them away?” said the Wind, as he swung. 

“No, leave them alone 
Till the berries have grown,” 

Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering hung. 

The Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow. 

Said the girl, “May I gather thy berries now ?” 

“Yes, all thou canst see; 

Take them; all are for thee,” 

Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low. 

BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 


14 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE BEST PRIZE 

WAS Fair Day. There was a great stir. The 

A whole farm knew it had come at last. 

The white cock with the coral red comb shouted it to 
the barnyard at sunrise. And he stood on the very 
highest post where all might see that such a fine cock 
should get a prize. The white hens laid eggs with very 
rough shells for the judges to feel at once how fresh they 
were. The geese stopped gabbling to preen their snowy 
feathers and polish their yellow bills. Yes, every fowl 
was putting the best foot forward. 

It was the same way in the cowyard. At daybreak 
the cows set off a little faster than usual to crop the 
sweetest green pastures and to drink the clearest waters. 
They were fat and sleek already, but there was nothing 
like a last touch. And when they came back they gave 
the milkmaid such foaming pails of good rich milk that 
she cried, ''The dairy will bring the farmer’s wife the 
first prize. O what cream she will be able to send and 
what sweet butter.” 

It was the same way in the pig pen. The big pigs 
made their fat a little whiter and firmer by crunching 
butternuts. The young pink and white curly ones kept 


THE BEST PRIZE 


15 


themselves as clean as new pins as they ate soft mash 
from well scoured troughs. 

The farmer and his wife, and their men and maids 
knew it best of all. It was they who had toiled early 
and late for it. They had fed and cared the animals. 
They had ploughed the hard earth. They had sown the 
seed and kept it free from stone and choking weed. 

Now their hearts swelled with pride. The corn was 
ripe and milky in the ear. The buckwheat was brown 
and fragrant. The oats were heavy at the heads. In 
the orchards peaches were bursting with juice, pears 
were golden, apples were round and red and very white 
when you bit into them. 

‘Tield and orchard will take a first prize,’’ said the men 
to the farmer. 

“So will the kitchen garden,” said the maids to the 
farmer’s wife. “Look at the tomatoes! How full and 
heavy they are. And see the big yellow squashes, to 
say nothing of the bigger fat pumpkins.” 

“It was worth all the hard work,” said the farmer to 
his wife when the men and maids had gone. He and she 
with their children were having a last look before he 
made a choice of what to take to the fair. 

“Yes,” said she, “you may make sure of more than one 
prize.” 

“Well, whether we get a prize or not, we shall harvest 
good, sweet food any way, and plenty for man and beast. 
If everyone who eats of it, when we sell it at market. 


i6 


THE FIVE SENSES 


grows as rosy as you/’ — here he pinched his wife’s cheek 
— ‘'and as you,” — here he pinched the baby’s and the 
small boy’s and the small girl’s — “that’s the best prize 
of all.” 

Well, that morning he took the best of everything to 
the fair, from barnyard, cowyard, pig pen, dairy, field, 
orchard, and kitchen garden. The judges looked at 
everything from this side and that, from far and from 
near, and then they said, “Four first prizes and three 
seconds.” 

Proud and happy that evening were barnyard and cow- 
yard and pig pen and field and dairy and orchard and 
kitchen garden and men and maids and master and mis- 
tress and little boy and little girl and even the baby. 

“I was sure of it,” said the splendid white cock with 
the coral red comb. 

“I was sure of it,” said the farmer’s wife. 

“So am I now,” said the farmer. “But I like best 
the best prize.” And again he pinched her cheek and 
the rosy cheeks of his son and his daughter. He would 
have pinched the baby’s too; but that wise little one was 
fast asleep in bed making it still plumper and rosier. 


THE FIVE SENSES 


17 


THE DWARF ROOTS’ STORY OF THE 
PUMPKIN SEED 

T^ID you ever hear the story of the pumpkin seed that 
made a feast of his insides, and found his outsides 
changed surprisingly, and went down a pig’s throat, and 
was happy? Ever since it happened the dwarf roots, 
who live below the ground, tell it to the pumpkin seeds. 
They say they heard it from the wind one day when the 
farmer’s spade laid the ground open and let the wind in. 
And the wind says he heard the farm children’s grand- 
mother tell it. And she says she heard it from her grand- 
mother. So you see it’s an old story, and time you heard 
it. Then 


Throw the nuts in 
And let us straight begin. 

Before the dwarf roots tell the story they stroke their 
beards that have grown fast into the ground like hairy 
threads, and cry out, “Once upon a, twice upon a, thrice 
upon a time.” And all the little pumpkin seeds lying 
low in the ground know a story is coming and swell with 
joy. After that the dwarf roots tell the story as ’twas 
told to me. So 


i8 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Throw the nuts in 
And turn the first about, 
And let's not stop again 
Until the tale is out. 


Here’s the tale. 

Early in the spring when things with legs all walk 
abroad and garden folks are born, a little pumpkin seed 
stuck his head above ground. He arrived with his cap 
on, as little pumpkin seeds do, but as soon as he could he 
shook it off, and looked about him to find out what he 
was to do. And who should he see come trotting down 
the garden path toward him but a little sniffing, squeal- 
ing pig, poking his snout into everything and gobbling 
it up. 

Now, how he came to know it, the little pumpkin seed 
never could tell, but all of a sudden he sang out; 

‘T’m for your betters, 

Not you, Piggy Wig, 

When juicy Eve grown 
And round and big; 

Then Til change into something 
Which winks and blinks 
And with boys and girls 
Plays high jinks; 

But when Pm out. 

Snip, snap, snout. 

You may have me. 

It's your turn to shout." 


THE DWARF ROOTS’ STORY 


19 


The little pig was so astonished that he stood straight 
up on his hind legs and curled his tail in a tight knot, 
for all the world as if he were a performing pig in a 
circus. When he was firm on his legs again he was just 
going to open his mouth when he saw the farmer coming 
down the path. So instead, he ran squealing from the 
garden. Some dwarf roots who tell the story say he was 
going to gobble up the little pumpkin. And others say 
he was going to answer in pig’s rhyme: 

“When it’s time to shout, 

With my sniffy snout 
I’ll smell you out.” 

However this may be, the next time he came trotting 
that way, he poked his snout into a wire netting. The 
farmer had put it around the kitchen garden to keep him 
out. So that was the last the little pumpkin seed saw of 
him for many a long day. 

But the pumpkin seed knew now what he should do. 

He stood up straight in the sunlight and soft rain. 
And he grew and grew and covered himself with blossoms 
and then let them all drop off except one. And out of 
that he made a little pumpy pumpkin. And by harvest 
time he had that so fat and round and yellow and juicy 
that the dwarf roots’ mouths water when they tell of it. 

The farmer gathered the pumpkin in a great basket. 
And his wife scooped out the splendid insides of it 
and made of them deep rich pies for the Thanksgiving 


20 


THE FIVE SENSES 


feast that the farmer’s family eat together in thankful- 
ness to God for health and plenty. Everyone comes to 
the feast: grandfather and grandmother and uncles and 
aunts and all the children, first cousins and second 
cousins and third cousins and fourth cousins and fifth 
cousins, down to the littlest babies that can do nothing 
when they’re not feeding and sleeping but gurgle and 
crow at their fingers and toes. To be sure, when the 
grownups bite into the deep, rich pumpkin pies they can 
do nothing either but gurgle and smack their lips. 

So it was that the inside of the pumpkin did its part 
and made a feast and came to glory. 

But what of the outside? You shall hear. It hap- 
pened that very night. 

The outside fell into the hands of a boy who could 
work surprising changes in things. He worked one in 
the outside of the pumpkin. Some dwarf roots say he 
turned it into a Jack-o’-lantern, and some say into a 
goblin. Anyway, there it was that night stuck in the 
farmer’s hitching post and changed most surprisingly. 
It had a head that glowed like fire in the darkness, and 
big round eyes that winked and blinked every time the 
wind blew, and a mouth that grinned from ear to ear 
when the big boys and girls made the little ones run past 
it. The little ones would steal up softly. And just 
when they were near the fiery head the big ones would cry 
out, ‘Took out, little uns, the goblin ’ll git cher.” And 
the little ones would dash past, laughing and shrieking. 


THE DWARF ROOTS^ STORY 


21 


So it was that the outside of the pumpkin did its part 
and played high jinks with the children. Great fun it 
was; and it kept up until the farmer called out, “Time 
for bed, boys and girls.” 

Just as he said this the wind sprang up and put out the 
fire in the pumpkin’s head and blew him off the hitching 
post. And the next thing he knew he was going down a 
pig’s throat, the very piggy wig he met so long ago. 

Snip snap, snout, 

This tale’s out! 

The pig has him now. 

It’s his turn to shout. 


ANGELA M. KEYES 


22 


THE FIVE SENSES 


MINE HOST OF ^THE GOLDEN APPLE’^ 

A GOODLY host one day was mine, 

A Golden Apple his only sign, 

That hung from a long branch, ripe and fine. 

My host was the bountiful apple tree ; 

He gave me shelter and nourished me 
With the best of fare, all fresh and free. 

And light winged guests came not a few, 

To his leafy inn, and sipped the dew. 

And sang their best songs ere they flew. 

I slept at night on a downy bed 
Of moss, and my host benignly spread 
His own cool shadow over my head. 

When I asked what reckoning there might be, 

He shook his broad boughs cheerily: — 

A blessing be thine, green Apple Tree! 

THOMAS WESTWOOD 


THE FIVE SENSES 


23 


TWO WILD CREATURES AT MEALS 

/^NCE when I spent a month in a mountaineer’s log 
cabin I had the good luck to see two wild creatures 
at meals. The cabin was back from the road, in a clear- 
ing at the foot of a mountain, and at the side of thick 
woods. 

One morning I awoke very early. Everything was so 
quiet that I could almost hear the stillness itself. But 
hark! Wasn’t that the sound of a footstep outside? 
And isn’t that the soft crunch and tug of grass being 
eaten? 

On tiptoe I stole to the little window looking into the 
woods. There at breakfast near the edge of the wood 
was a splendid deer with branching horns! I held my 
breath, not to frighten him. He went browsing from 
clump to clump of the dewy grass. Then he made for 
a bare-looking spot, put down his lips close to it, and 
began to lick the soil. 

‘‘He’s after salt,” said I to myself ; “that’s a salt lick 
and he knows it.” 

So did the doe and the fawn. They now came into 
the open, the young bright-eyed one bounding along at 
her mother’s side. They joined the buck at the salt lick. 


24 


THE FIVE SENSES 


I scarcely breathed I kept so still. It was surely my 
lucky day. 

Well, after the salt course, the buck led the way to 
a pond. In they all went knee deep, and drank the 
water and ate the tender lily pads. It was a pretty 
sight to see the fawn rub herself lovingly against her 
mother between bites. 

Hark ! the deer hear something. They lift their heads. 
Wide open are their ears, eyes, and nose. I see, smell, 
hear nothing. But they make off into the heart of the 
woods. 

“I’ve seen a whole deer family,” I wrote home in joy- 
ful haste to small brothers and sisters just your age. 
“I’ve seen the father buck, the mother doe, and the little 
fawn. What do you think of that?” 

But before I posted the letter I opened it again. It 
was to put in a bit of news that would make those young- 
sters at home wish they could grow old in a night, and 
take the next train for the golden wild animal land 
where grownups like me were living. 

Wednesday is surely a lucky day. I know what the 
old rhyme says, 

“The bairn that is born on the Sabbath day 
Is lucky and bonny and wise and gay.” 

But I was born on Wednesday, and it was on Wednesday 
morning I saw the whole deer family. And the same 


TWO WILD CREATURES AT MEALS 


25 


Wednesday at evening I saw a real live wild black bear! 
It too was eating. ITl tell you about it. 

I was peering into the woods at dusk. Up a narrow 
trail I made out the rather dirty white face of a black 
bear. It came down the trail toward me, holding its 
head low. Every few steps it stopped to devour berries 
or juicy roots. As it came quite near, it began sniffing 
around the hollow trunk of an old tree. 

I was watching it closely. I won’t say it really did 
so, but it looked to me as if it nodded its head, winked 
its small left eye, and licked its lips. Anyway up it 
climbed fast, put down its snout into the hollow, and 
began eating greedily. 

“What has it found?” I shouted to the mountaineer. 
He was close beside me, and could have heard me if I 
had only whispered. 

“Sh!” said he. But the black bear was off. 

“That fellow has a sweet tooth,” said the mountaineer; 
“he was eating honey. The bees sometimes leave a 
hoard of it in those old tree trunks. I ’ll get you some 
to-morrow. That black one won’t have it all his own 
way.” 

Wednesday is my lucky day; isn’t it? To be sure 
another Wednesday came and brought me no more wild 
creatures feeding near the edge of the wood. But one 
Wednesday had, and that’s luck enough. 

ANGELA M. KEYES 


26 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE CAT AND THE PARROT 

A CAT and a Parrot made it up to invite each other 
to dinner in turn. That is to say, the Cat asks 
the Parrot to-day and the Parrot asks the Cat to-morrow. 

The Cat’s turn was first. She went to market and 
bought only a ha’porth of milk, a ha’porth of sugar, and 
a ha’porth of rice. And when the Parrot came she 
actually made him cook his dinner himself. Dinner! 
the Parrot made no dinner at such a stingy table. 

Well, next day it was the Parrot’s turn. He bought 
about thirty pounds of flour and a tub of butter. And 
he cooked the food before his guest came. He made 
enough little round spicy sugar cakes with nuts in them 
to fill a washwoman’s basket — five hundred or more. 

When the Cat sat down the Parrot, heaped her plate 
with cakes, four hundred and ninety-eight of them. He 
kept only two for himself. The Cat made short work of 
her pile of cakes and then asked for more. 

The polite Parrot set before her the two he was keep- 
ing for himself. The Cat ate them, and asked for more. 

The Parrot was a bit angry by this time, so he snapped 
out, “I have no more, unless you eat me,” And the Cat 
did, down to bones, beak, and feathers. 


THE CAT AND THE PARROT 


27 


Well, an old woman who saw this picked up a stone. 

‘'Scat! scat!” she cried, “be off or Til kill you with this 
stone.” 

Said the Cat to her, “I ate a basketful of cakes, I ate 
my friend the Parrot. Shall I blush to eat you, old hag? 
Nay, not so.” The Cat ate the old woman. 

The Cat went along the road and came to a man with 
a donkey. 

“Get away. Cat,” cried the man, “or my donkey may 
kick you to death.” 

Said the Cat, “Man, I ate a basketful of cakes, I ate my 
friend the Parrot, I ate an old woman. Shall I blush to 
eat a man with his donkey. Nay, not so!” The Cat ate 
the man with his donkey. 

Well, the Cat went farther along the road and came 
to a king’s wedding procession. First came the king and 
queen, then a row of lords and ladies, then a column of 
soldiers, then a circusful of elephants, two by two. 

“O Cat,” called out the king, kindly, “get out of the 
way, or my elephants may trample you to death.” 

Said the Cat, “O King, I ate a basketful of cakes, I 
ate my friend, the Parrot, I ate an old woman, I ate a 
donkey man with his donkey. Shall I blush to eat a 
beggarly king and his court? Nay, not so!” Down 
went the king and the queen, the lords and the ladies, 
the soldiers and the elephants, two by two. 

Then the Cat went farther along the road and came to 
a pair of land crabs. 


28 


THE FIVE SENSES 


‘‘Run away, run away, Pussycat!’' squeaked the land 
crabs, “or we may nip you.” 

“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed the Cat, shaking her sides (and 
they were fat by this time). “Ho, ho, ho,” she roared. 
“I ate a basketful of cakes, I ate my friend the Parrot, 
I ate an old woman, I ate a donkey man with his donkey, 
I ate a king and a queen and their lords and ladies and 
their soldiers and their elephants, two by two. And 
shall I run away from a land crab? Nay, nay, nay, not 
so! I will eat the land crab, too.” And she did. She 
pounced upon the two at once. Gobble, gobble, slip, 
slop, the land crabs went down the Cat’s throat. 

Well, when the land crabs arrived, and that was very 
soon, they found themselves among a crowd of creatures. 
There was the king, sitting with his head in his hands, 
very unhappy. There was the bride in a swoon. There 
were the soldiers, all out of ranks. There were the ele- 
phants, trumpeting loudly. There was the donkey man 
with the donkey. There was the Parrot whetting his 
claws on his own beak. There was the old woman scold- 
ing them all roundly. There were the five hundred 
cakes piled in the center. 

The land crabs could see nothing at all, except by 
flashes when the Cat opened her mouth. This wasn’t 
often now, for she was so crammed she couldn’t. But 
they could feel that the Cat’s sides were soft. 

Nip, nip, nip, they went, and there was a little hole. 

“Mieow!” squeaked the Cat. 


THE CAT AND THE PARROT 


29 


Nip, nip, nip! — nip, nip! — nip, nip! nip — went on the 
land crabs until the hole was large, and the Cat, in great 
pain, had to lie down. 

Then out scuttled the land crabs; out stepped the king, 
carrying his bride; out ran the lords and ladies, out 
marched the soldiers, out tramped the elephants; out 
walked the donkey man with his donkey; out hobbled 
the old woman, giving the Cat a piece of her mind. Out 
flew the Parrot, with two cakes in his claws. 

Then they all went about their business, and the Cat 
had to take to her bed for a year and a day. 

Eastern folk tale 


30 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE WINDMILL 

B ehold ! a giant am I ! 

Aloft here in my tower, 

With my granite jaws I devour 
The maize, and the wheat, and the rye. 
And grind them into flour. 

I look down over the farms ; 

In the fields of grain I see 
The harvest that is to be, 

And I fling to the air my arms. 

For I know it is all for me. 

I hear the sound of flails 

Far off, from the threshing floors 
In barns, with their open doors. 
And the wind, the wind in my sails. 
Louder and louder roars.. 

I stand here in my place, 

With my feet on the rock below. 
And whichever way it may blow, 

I meet it face to face 

As a brave man meets his foe. 


THE WINDMILL 


31 


And while we wrestle and strive, 

My master, the miller, stands 
And feeds me with his hands; 

For he knows who makes him thrive, 

Who makes him lord of lands. 

On Sundays I take my rest ; 

Church-going bells begin 
Their low melodious din ; 

I cross my arms on my breast, 

And all is peace within. 

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 


32 


THE FIVE SENSES 


TABLE RULES FOR LITTLE FOLKS 

I N silence I must take my seat, 

And give God thanks before I eat; 
Must for my food in patience wait, 

Till I am asked to hand my plate. 

I must not scold, nor whine, nor pout. 

Nor move my chair or plate about; 

With knife or fork or anything, 

I must not play ; nor must I sing. 

I must not speak a useless word. 

For children should be seen, not heard; 

I must not talk about my food. 

Nor fret if I don’t think it good. 


I must not say, 'The bread is old,” 

I must not say, "The soup is cold,” 

I must not cry for this or that. 

Nor murmur if my meat is fat. 

My mouth with food I must not crowd. 
Nor while Em eating speak aloud; 

Must turn my head to cough or sneeze. 
And when I ask, say, "If you please.” 


TABLE RULES FOR LITTLE FOLKS 


33 


The table cloth I must not spoil, 

Nor with my food my fingers soil; 
Must keep my seat when I have done, 
Nor round the table sport or run. 

When told to rise, then I must put 
My chair away with noiseless foot; 
And lift my heart to God above. 

In praise for all His wondrous love. 



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THE FIVE SENSES 


37 


WHY THE HONEYSUCKLE CAME OUT AT 
NIGHT 

I AHERE is a honeysuckle arbor in our garden,” 
said Anna Jane to Maud Alice. 

“Is there?” asked Maud Alice, as if Anna Jane had 
not just said so. 

“Yes,” said Anna Jane, “there is. And my nose has 
found out something about it.” 

“Your nose!” cried Maud Alice. She felt her own 
nose, and looked so hard at Anna Mary’s that Anna 
Mary covered hers up. “Noses can’t hear nor see nor 
talk,” said she. “How could they find out things?” 

“By doing what noses are for,” said Anna Mary, “by 
smelling things! That’s a nose’s way of finding out.” 

“Oh,” said Maud Alice, “of course. What did your 
nose find out?” 

“It found out that the honeysuckle flowers smell 
sweetest in the dark of the evening. My eyes then saw 
that the white flowers are more open too. Look at the 
flowers now. They are almost closed and you must go 
very near them to smell them. But come into the gar- 
den this evening, and your nose and eyes will show you 
a difference.” 


38 


THE FIVE SENSES 


So after dinner Maud Alice went into Anna Mary’s 
garden. There she found Anna Mary. The sun was 
down and the garden was growing cool and dark. 

Maud Alice’s nose smelled honeysuckle. She lifted 
it high and took a long sniff. “Ah !” she said, and took 
another. “Anna Mary, did you ever smell anything so 
sweet as your honeysuckle? The whole garden is full 
of it!” 

The two children ran about and drew in long deep 
breaths. 

Suddenly a winged creature fluttered past their heads. 

“It’s a bat,” whispered Anna Mary. 

“Oh, no,” said Maud Alice, “its wings are white.” 

“It’s a big white moth,” cried both children; “let us 
see where it goes.” 

Straight to the white flowers of the honeysuckle it 
went. 

“Do you suppose it smells them?” said Anna Mary. 

“And sees them?” added Maud Alice. 

“Let’s ask father?” said Anna Mary; “he knows every- 
thing.” 

So they did. He knew the answer in rhyme. This 
is what he said: 

Honeysuckle white 
Opens at night, 

With sweetest smell, 

Owl moth to tell, 

“You may sip of my honey 


THE HONEYSUCKLE AT NIGHT 


39 


If you’ll carry away 
My pollen dust yellow, 

To another fair flower 
In honeysuckle bower; 

Of it she has need 
To ripen her seed.” 

"‘Oh, that’s it; is it?” said Maud Alice, as if Anna 
Mary’s father hadn’t just said so. 

“Yes,” said Anna Mary’s father. “The owlet moth 
is a kind of pollen express. The honeysuckle’s sweet 
perfume stops it as it flies by. As it sucks the honey, 
the flower’s pollen dust falls on it. That’s the way the 
express loads up. Then away it goes with the pollen 
to another flower. And here it may help to ripen a seed. 
The owl moth express travels in the evening.” 

“That’s the reason the honeysuckle doesn’t go to bed 
with the four o’ clocks,” said Anna Mary. “They close 
up early.” 

“Nor with the morning glories,” said Maud Alice. 
“They close earlier.” 

“I wonder,” said Anna Mary’s father, slyly, “I won- 
der what time children close up.” 

“Ha, ha, ha, that means it’s time for us to go to bed,” 
said Maud Alice. “Good night.’ 

“Happy dreams, my dear,” said Anna Mary’s father. 

“Good night, Maud Alice,” said Anna Mary, 

“Good night. 

Sleep tight. 


40 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Wake up bright 
At morning light;” 

‘‘To do what’s right 

With all your might,” finished Maud Alice. 

That night Anna Mary dreamed the whole world was 
a garden sweet with honeysuckle. The Little Old Man 
of this garden was a wonderful pollen expressman. He 
was made of nothing but two great white wings. Anna 
Mary seated herself on one wing and Maud Alice on 
the other, and away they rode through the air. As they 
flew by, slender white honeysuckle ladies cried, “There 
goes the owl moth express ! Stop here, stop here, express- 
man, and take my pollen with you.” Only instead of 
speaking they breathed out sweet perfume. By and by 
the express got going so fast that it bumped plump into 
a bat. 

Anna Mary awoke with a start. And there she was at 
home in her own little white bed, with the morning sun 
shining in at her. 


ANGELA M. KEYES 


THE FIVE SENSES 


41 


A SONG OF CLOVER 

I WONDER what the Clover thinks, — 

Sweet by the roadsides, sweet by rills. 

Sweet in the meadows, sweet on hills. 

Sweet in its white, sweet in its red. 

Oh, half its sweetness cannot be said ; — 

Sweet in its every living breath. 

Sweetest, perhaps, at last, in death! 

Oh! who knows what the Clover thinks? 

No one! unless the Bob-o’-links ! 

'^SAXE holm” 


42 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE GAME OF WHAT WE SAW IN THE 
GIANT’S CASTLE 

T his game is fun. Any number may play. Some- 
one must be the giant. And some place must be 
his land. 

The giant goes off. The others sing: 

WeVe been to the castle 
Of Jack the giant killer 
And this is what we saw. 

The first player says : I saw the giant’s wife. 

The second player says : I saw a long sharp knife. 

The third player says: I saw a deep dark den. 

The fourth player says: I saw a fat red hen. 

The fifth player says: I saw the giant. 

Along comes the giant. He growls 

Fe fi fo fum, 

I smell the blood of an Englishman; 

Be he living, 

Or be he dead, 

I’ll grind his bones 
To make me bread. 


IN THE GIANT’S CASTLE 


43 


The players call out, “You will, will you?” They 
rush past the giant into his land and out again. The 
giant chases them. Any player he touches while in his 
land must go with him and help to catch the others. 

The giant goes olf again and the players who have not 
been caught go on telling what they saw. 

The sixth player says: I saw a golden egg. 

The seventh player says: I saw a good man’s leg. 

The eighth player says : I saw the bags of gold. 

The ninth says: I saw the harp so bold. 

The tenth says: I saw the giant. 

All cry: He saw the giant. 

Back comes the giant and everything happens as be- 
fore. 

There need not be ten players. Any number will do. 
The players speak in turn. The only rule is “Begin 
with ‘I saw.’ ” This rule must be kept. 

ANGELA M. KEYES 


44 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE FRAGRANT TULIP BED 

/^NCE upon a time, and a long time ago, and a long, 
long time before that, a little old woman had a gar- 
den. And in this garden she planted a beautiful bed of 
tulips. The slim green stalks of them stood in the earth 
tall and straight. And every other row of lovely cups 
they held was red and every other was yellow. At twi- 
light the little old woman patted down the last of them, 
and went in to boil the kettle for her tea. 

As soon as she was gone there came peeping and trip- 
ping from the field nearby a crowd of pixies. They 
ran between the rows and skipped from one flower to 
the next and put their slender fingers down into the 
cups. And they clapped their fairy palms together and 
cried, ‘'How lovely!” But the little old woman drink- 
ing her tea before the fire didn’t hear a word of it. 

Well, night came, and the pixies’ teeny weeny bits of 
elfin babies grew sleepy. They must have bawled, 
though of course big ears like yours and mine couldn’t 
hear them; because all of a sudden all the little pixies 
scampered home, crying, 

‘'Coming, 

My teeny one, 


THE FRAGRANT TULIP BED 


45 


Coming, 

My weeny one, 

See the glowworm bright! 

My speck of delight 

And then the cleverest little pixie mother among them 
thought of something. '‘Let’s lay them in those lovely 
cradles,” said she. “TheyTl be as safe as a bug in a 
rose while we are greeting the queen.” She picked up 
her baby and ran back with it to the garden. And so 
did the others with theirs. They laid the babies in the 
tulip cups and sang them to rest. The tulips rocked to 
and fro in the wind and made music for the lullaby. 
The little old woman washing her teacup caught a note 
of the music and singing, and stopped her clatter to 
listen, it was so sweet. 

As soon as the elfin things were fast asleep, the pixies 
tripped lightly off on the very tippy tips of their toes. 
The silver moon was rising. They were just in time to 
form a ring on the green and dance in her honor. They 
circled nine times and looked up at her. She beamed 
down on them and they bowed low. Then she passed 
on through the heavens to make way for the day. 

It was now the dawn of morning. The pixies ran 
back to the tulip cradles in the little old woman’s gar- 
den crying, 

“Weeny 
Sleepy head, 


46 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Leave 
Dewy bed, 

Time 

To get up, 

From 
Soft tulip 
Cup.” 

The little old woman awoke in the nick of time to 
hear them kissing the elfin babies as they carried them 
home. In a bound she was out of bed and at the window. 
But they had vanished. 

For all that she knew they had been there. She 
could tell it by the tulips. The slim green stalks of 
them stood in the earth, as they had when she planted 
them, tall and straight. And every other row of lovely 
cups they held was red and every other was yellow. Yet 
there was a wonderful change. It wasn’t only the shin- 
ing drops of morning dew on them. No, it was some- 
thing more wonderful — it was fairy fragrance. Every 
tulip smelled as sweet as a rose. It was the pixies’ 
thanks. 

News of these rare tulips went far and wide, and 
people came from here, there, and everywhere to buy 
them. So for the rest of her days the little old woman 
had plenty of money for many a cup of tea, and a pinch 
of snuff into the bargain. 


ANGELA M. KEYES 


THE FIVE SENSES 


47 


VIOLETS 

V IOLETS, violets, sweet March violets. 
Sure as March comes, they’ll come too. 
First the white and then the blue — 

Pretty violets ! 

White, with just a pinky dye. 

Blue as little baby’s eye, — 

So like violets. 

Though the rough wind shakes the house. 
Knocks about the budding boughs. 

There are violets. 

Though the passing snow-storms come. 
And the frozen birds sit dumb, 

Up spring violets, 

One by one among the grass, 

Saying ^Tluck me”! as we pass, — 

Scented violets. 

By and by there’ll be so many. 

We’ll pluck dozens nor miss any: 

Sweet, sweet violets! 

Children, when you go to play. 

Look beneath the hedge to-day: — 

Mamma likes violets. 


DINAH MARIA MULOCH 


48 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE JAPANESE GAMES OF PERFUMES 

O NE day some boys and girls about your age went 
with their father to a Japanese shop. While their 
father talked to the shopkeeper, they looked at the 
things in the shop. There were lovely cups and saucers 
as bright as flowers and as fine and thin as eggshells. 
There were queer-looking curved swords, and daggers 
with grinning heads on the handles. There were tiny 
ivory Japanese men and women with fans and parasols, 
carved most perfectly. 

The children looked at everything to their hearts’ con- 
tent. The polite shopkeeper let them. He gave all 
his very polite attention to their father. But the in- 
stant they touched one small black lacquer box, the shop- 
keeper was at their side. With a bow and a smile he had 
the box safe in his own hands. 

Turning to the father he said, ‘1 am most careful of 
this. I got it from a poor old nobleman in Japan. It 
had been in his family for hundreds of years but at last 
he had to sell it to me for gold, he was so poor.” 

Then he said kindly to the children, “When I have 
finished with your honorable father I will show it to 
you. You do not yet know how much it will please you. 


49 


THE JAPANESE GAMES OF PERFUMES 

It has to do with a game/’ said he, winking at them, 
and marching off with it. 

Well, of course, the children found it hard to wait 
until he came back with the box. The minute he did 
they crowded around him, all eyes and ears. 

He placed before them the small box, and put out 
his hand to open it, but stopped to ask, ‘‘Do American 
children ever play a game that tells whether their noses 
are clever?” 

“Of course not,” said John, the oldest boy, “who 
ever heard of such a game?” He felt cross with the 
showman for keeping them waiting. 

“Hundreds of years ago,” said the Japanese, “my 
countrymen used such boxes as this in games of per- 
fumes.” 

“Games of perfumes!” said the father. “What a 
good idea. They must have made the sense of smell 
very keen.” 

“Do you mean they played telling things by the smell 
of them?” asked Helen, the oldest girl. 

“As dogs do? You remember the stories of St. 
Bernard dogs that smelled travelers lost in the snow,” 
cried Frank. 

“Deer smell, too,” said John; “that’s one way they tell 
the hunting pack is near.” 

“Our cat smells fish,” said small Mary. 

“The druggist can tell things by the smell of them,” 
said Lucy, who was only a little bigger than Mary. “I 


50 


THE FIVE SENSES 


often see him opening bottles and smelling them before 
he takes them down/’ 

‘‘Sh!” said John, ‘let us hear about the box.” 

“In these old Japanese games the players smelled 
beautiful perfumes,” said the showman, smiling. “I 
shall tell you about it as I show the box.” 

This time he opened the box. Inside were several 
smaller boxes. In one of the boxes were tiny silk bags. 

“The bags have incense in them. And here,” said the 
showman, opening another of the boxes, “are fragrant 
woods. In the game, the incense or the wood is burned. 
It gives off a sweet perfume. The players tell by the 
perfume what kind of incense or of wood was burned. 
Perhaps sometimes two or more kinds were burned to- 
gether, to give — ” 

“It wasn’t so easy then; was it?” said John, who was 
very much interested. 

“No, I suppose not,” said the showman; “of course I 
learned about the game only from the old nobleman. 
He heard about it from his great great grandfather. 
And I suppose the great great grandfather had it from 
his great great grandfather. It is thought that before 
the game began, the servants used to take out of the 
room any sweet-smelling plants.” 

“That was only fair,” said Maud. 

There was a whole set of things to be used in the 
game. There was a box of charcoal. There was a little 
brass pan with an open-work silver cover. In the game, 


THE JAPANESE GAMES OF PERFUMES 51 

bits of the charcoal were dropped on a bed of ashes in 
the pan, and lighted. This of course was the fire over 
which the incense or the wood was burned. 

'It must have been fun to make the fire!” cried John. 

There was a tiny silver thing, like a flat knife, for 
getting out the incense; and there was a thin silver- 
framed plate about an inch square, made of isinglass. 

"It was on this little plate,” said the Japanese, "that 
the pinch of incense or the bit of wood was put to be held 
over the burning charcoal.” 

There was another small silver thing for holding the 
plate over the fire. There was a beautiful little lacquer 
tray covered with maple leaves made of mother of pearl. 
After the incense or the bit of wood had caught fire the 
plate was laid on one of these leaves to cool. 

"I hope it didn’t spoil it,” said Helen. 

"I suppose it was while it was cooling,” said the show- 
man, "that the players told by the perfume what kind 
of wood dr of incense was burning. When they were 
ready to tell, they laid counters in certain places on 
these boards,” said he, showing them. 

The counters were thin narrow bits of dark wood 
about an inch long. On one side of each was a number 
and on the other a lovely little painting. Some of the 
paintings were chrysanthemum flowers, some birds, some 
butterflies. 

"And here,” said the showman, "is the writing box for 
keeping — ” 


52 


THE FIVE SENSES 


‘The score!” cried the American children. So the 
shopkeeper let the word stand for what he meant. 

“And now,” said he, looking at John, “I know some- 
one who will think the last the best of all the game. In 
the game it was used at the beginning, or even before 
the game began, but I have kept it till last.” 

He opened another of the small boxes and took out the 
tiniest knife, hammer, chisel, and saw, the children had 
ever laid eyes on. 

When John could catch his breath he shouted : 
“They’re for cutting off the bits of wood. That old 
game of perfumes beats baseball to pieces. O, father, 
couldn’t you buy the whole set of things, and let me 
start the game up again?”' But the rare box was too 
costly for father’s pocket. 

All the way home the children planned to copy the 
set and try the game of perfumes. 

“I’ll make the tools,” said John. 

But whether he did or not I don’t know. 


THE FIVE SENSES 


53 


LITTLE WHITE LILY 

L ittle white Lily 
Sat by a stone, 
Drooping and waiting 
Till the sun shone. 

Little white Lily 
Sunshine has fed; 

Little white Lily 
Is lifting her head. 

Little white Lily 
Said, ‘Tt is good — 

Little white Lily’s 
Clothing and food.” 

Little white Lily 
Brest like a bride! 
Shining with whiteness. 
And crowned beside! 

Little white Lily 
Droopeth with pain. 
Waiting and waiting 
For the wet rain. 

Little white Lily 
Holdeth her cup; 

Rain is fast falling 
And filling it up. 


54 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Little white Lily 
Said, ‘'Good again — 
When I am thirsty 
To have fresh rain! 

Now I am stronger; 

Now I am cool; 

Heat cannot burn me, 
My veins are so full.’’ 

Little white Lily 
Smells very sweet : 

On her head sunshine. 
Rain at her feet. 

“Thanks to the sunshine. 
Thanks to the rain ! 

Little white Lily 
Is happy again !” 


GEORGE MACDONALD 


THE FIVE SENSES 


55 


THE SNAIL AND THE ROSE TREE 
ROUND the garden ran a hedge of hazels. Be- 



^ yond this hedge lay fields and meadows, where were 
cows and sheep. In the midst of the garden stood a 
blooming Rose Tree. And under this Rose Tree lived a 
Snail, who had a good deal in his shell — himself. 

‘‘Wait till my time comes!” he said: “I shall do 
something more than put out roses, bear nuts, or give 
milk, like the Rose Tree, the hazel bush, and the cows!” 

“I expect a great deal of you,” said the Rose Tree. 
“But may I ask when it will come?” 

“I take my time,” replied the Snail. “You’re always 
in such a hurry. You don’t rouse people’s interest by 
keeping them waiting.” 

When the next year came, the Snail lay almost in the 
same spot, in the sunshine under the Rose Tree. The 
Rose Tree again bore buds that bloomed into roses, un- 
til the snow fell and the weather became raw and cold. 
Then the Rose Tree bowed its head and the Snail crept 
into the ground. 

A new year began, and the roses came out, and the 
Snail came out also. 

“You’re an old Rose Tree now!” said the Snail. 
“You must make haste and come to an end, for you have 
given the world all that was in you. You have done 


56 


THE FIVE SENSES 


nothing at all to improve yourself, or you would have 
brought forth something else besides roses. How can 
you answer for that*? In a little time you will be only a 
stick in the mud. Do you understand what I say?” 

''You frighten me,” replied the Rose Tree. "I never 
thought of that at all.” 

"No, you have not taken the trouble to think. Have 
you ever told yourself why you bloomed, and how is it 
that you bloom — why it is this way, and not some other 
way?” 

"No,” answered the Rose Tree. "I bloomed gladly, 
because I could not do anything else. The sun shone 
and warmed me. I drank the pure dew and the fresh 
rain, and I lived, I breathed. Out of the earth arose 
something within me; I had to bloom, I could not do 
anything else, that was my life.” 

"You have led a very pleasant life,” said the Snail. 

"Yes. And everything I have was given to me,” said 
the Rose Bush. "So I must give it to others. I know 
I have put forth only roses. But you — you who are so 
clever, what have you given the world? what do you 
intend to give?” 

"There’s time enough,” said the Snail. 

And so saying, he went into his house, and closed up 
the entrance after him. But the Rose Tree went on 
blooming and making the garden sweet to all who came 
into it. 


FROM HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 


THE FIVE SENSES 


57 


THE HERB SHOP 

PART I 

T N a little dark hut that looked as if it grew out of the 
side of the hill was an herb shop. You knew that a 
long way off by the smell. 

The smell was delicious. All the village thought so. 
The grownups always took their visitors to walk past 
the shop the last thing before going home. When the 
wind blew their way the little children played taking 
their doll visitors past, and almost wore their noses out 
with sniffing for dolly. When landlords had houses 
to let in the village they put on the sign, ‘'Take this 
house. From the porch you smell the herb shop.” Why, 
the smell became so famous that it was written about in 
the newspapers, so that people in far off places read of 
it and smelled it in imagination. That was something! 

And when you came near you knew it was an herb 
shop by the things you saw growing outside and selling 
inside. There was celery for eating with turkey, and 
there was thyme for seasoning. There was lemon- 
scented balm for healing cuts. There was lavender for 
making chests and closets smell sweet. There was hore- 
hound for taking the poison out of mad dog bites, at 


58 


THE FIVE SENSES 


least so said Mother Herb Witch, the shopkeeper. But 
as the children suspected her to be more than half a real 
witch, they thought it safer to keep away from mad dogs. 

They couldn’t keep away from the shop, though, and 
it was Mother Herb Witch rather than the smell that 
brought them there. They liked to watch her and to 
hear her talk. 

She was an old, old, old woman. No one knew how 
old she was. All the mothers and grandmothers in the 
village, yes, even Polly Cheevers great grandmother, 
knew her when they were children. And she looked old 
even then. She was as brown as the earth, with a pointed 
chin, long bony fingers, and sharp black eyes, as bright 
as a hawk’s. No wonder the children thought her more 
than half a witch. 

''All she needs,” whispered Polly Cheevers to Peter 
Vancamp, one day when she had begged her mother to 
send her to the shop to buy mint for lamb sauce and 
he had got there to buy parsley for mutton, "is a pointed 
hat and a broomstick. Then away she might ride up the 
chimney like any real witch.” 

Peter didn’t answer aloud. Mother Herb Witch was 
looking at him. And though he and everyone else called 
her Mother Herb Witch behind her back, he didn’t know 
how she might take it to her face. 

It was wonderful to watch her tending the herbs. You 
would have thought they were her own children. For 
some she made a bed of dark rich earth and for some she 


THE HERB SHOP 


59 


spread light sandy soil. Some she put to bloom in the 
sunshine and some to flower in the shadow. Hardy ones 
she left to battle with the wind and frail ones she shel- 
tered. As she went from herb to herb the children heard 
her call each softly by name, and the herb lay against 
her hand as if it loved the touch. 

And what things she could tell about the herbs. One 
day as she was loosening the soil in a bed of ragwort 
she told something that changed what I set out to tell 
and brought out everything you are to hear. 

'‘Every fairy cobbler,” said she, "has treasure buried 
under a ragwort plant. He counts it sometimes just be- 
fore dawn. If anyone should catch sight of a fairy cob- 
bler going to his ragwort, he should clap his eyes on 
him and keep them there until the fairy cobbler gets to 
it. Then the fairy cobbler has to show the person ex- 
actly where to dig for the treasure.” 

Peter looked at Robert, his greatest friend, and Robert 
looked back at Peter. And when Mother Herb Witch 
went Into her shop she said to Philip, her handsome yel- 
low cat, who kept house with her and loved her as a son, 
"Those boys are going to try for the fairy cobblers’ 
treasure, this very night.” O she was quick at knowing 
anything about her herbs. So she slept with only half 
an eye and then with no eye at all, as you shall hear. 


6o 


THE FIVE SENSES 


PART II 

For, before the boys were due at dawn in her herb 
garden to get the fairy treasure, someone else came into 
her herb shop. It would be hard to say whether Mother 
Herb Witch were surprised or not, she was so like won- 
der folk. But anyway she kept broad awake. 

At midnight into the shop came a jolly little elf man, 
and his wife, a spry little fairy. They sniffed the sweet 
smell, and opened the shop to sell herbs. For wasn’t it 
an herb shop already made? As soon as the herbs 
touched the fairy fingers they grew so delicate and fine 
that almost nothing went out of the shop, and what did 
go out came back. So Mother Herb Witch found as 
much in the morning as she left at night! There’s no 
telling how. It was fairy magic. 

Well, as soon as the shop was open, in burst a crowd 
of fairy folk chattering like magpies. 

‘‘At midnight to-morrow,” cried the gayest of them, 
“I’m to be married. We’re getting the wedding ready. 
I’m not the prettiest fairy in the kingdom — I’m not at 
all ugly, though — ^but I’m the most good humored. 
Hear me laugh.” 

She stopped to laugh. I give you my word it was like 
the music of golden bells. 

“And so,” she went on, “the queen’s son has chosen me 
for his bride. He has to help the queen rule the king- 
dom. The king, you know,” said she, tapping her fore- 


THE HERB SHOP 


6i 


head, ‘'is a little cracked in the head; it makes the palace 
very sad. The prince wants laughter around him. And 
so,” said she, bowing to the shopkeepers, “he has chosen 
me to make life merrier.” 

“YouTl do it, my bonny dear,” said a little small man 
who was limping into the shop, nearly bent in two. 

“Oh!” cried the bride; “wait on him at once; he’s in 
pain.” 

“What can I do for you, old fellow?” asked the jolly 
elf. 

But the spry fairy wife didn’t put the poor small man 
to the trouble of answering. She saw at a glance that 
he had rheumatism. Over she skipped to the back wall 
of the hut. Sticking out of a wall was a crook. And 
from this crook hung Mother Herb Witch’s three-legged 
gipsy kettle. And in this kettle was brewing magical 
water cress. Quick as a wink the fairy wife filled a bot- 
tle and gave it to the small man, and her husband 
pocketed the bit of silver moonlight, the price of it. 

The small man began to rub his legs and back with it 
then and there. They straightened at once. 

“It’s a wonderful cure,” said he, to the bride. “I wish 
I knew where such water cress grows.” 

“Where do you pick the water cress?” asked the bride 
at once, of the fairy wife. 

“That I don’t know,” said the fairy wife; “we take this 
shop only at night, you know. When I come to peep 
about at dusk I often hear the old men of the village ask 


62 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Mother Herb Witch the same question. But she never 
tells. All she says is — ’’ 

At this minute someone crooned: 

''To tell would do harm, 

H would break the charm; 

^Tis in dewy dell, 

By the witch’s well.^’ 

‘‘Was that you who spoke?” asked the fairy wife of 
the small man. 

“No, it wasn’t,” said the small man sharply, as a 
twinge of rheumatism pinched him on its way out. 

“Well, never mind who it was,” cried the bride, gaily; 
“your legs are almost as well as ever. That’s all you 
need care. You may dance with my favorite lady-in- 
waiting at my wedding.” 

“Now,” said she, turning to the elves and fairies with 
her, ^‘let us make haste to get what we need. I smell 
Rosemary, that’s an herb I need. I will take a hundred 
and three sprigs of Rosemary, to leave one with each of 
my dearest friends when I start on my honeymoon, — 
Rosemary! that’s for remembrance, you know,” she re- 
peated, sharply, to the jolly elf. 

She thought him rude. Instead of getting the sprigs 
he was staring at her with his chin in his hand. 

“Yes, yes, your royal highness,” cried he, as if she were 
already the princess. “I was only counting to see would 
a hundred and three be enough.” 


THE HERB SHOP 63 

“It isn’t your affair,” said the little bride, but not 
very crossly. 

“I,” said the chief bridesmaid, who was to pack the 
bride’s trunk, “shall take nineteen grains of sweet 
lavender to give perfume to the bride’s clothes. That 
will give me nine for her party dresses, three for her 
evening wraps, and seven for her pocket handkerchiefs. 
Pick me out some that hasn’t too strong a smell. A real 
fairy lady should have only a very delicate scent about 
her.” 

“Have you any saffron?” asked the queen’s house- 
keeper. 

“Plenty,” said someone as the fairy wife went peep- 
ing into a drawer. 

“Was it you who spoke?” asked she of the house- 
keeper. 

“No,” said the housekeeper, “it wasn’t.” 

“Never mind who it was,” said the bride. “Time is 
flying and I must be married.” 

“I’ll take a farthing’s worth of saffron,” said the 
housekeeper. “We have invited to the wedding an old 
Irish fairy, and I want to dip the linen sheets for her 
bed in saffron. She thinks it gives strength to her legs 
as she lies between them, so I may as well get it. She 
will need strength to dance a jig at the wedding.” 

Well, the king’s gardener bought a speck of sweet 
Cecily, to rub inside a new beehive he had set up. He 
thought that if he rubbed a bit of the herb inside, a swarm 


64 


THE FIVE SENSES 


of bees would smell it and go in, and store it with honey 
for the wedding feast. 

The royal cook, a round fat elf with a white cap on 
his head, bought cuckoo bread. 'It has heart shaped 
leaves,” he said. "To my mind that’s just the thing for 
a wedding. Besides, there’s a pretty story about its 
name.' 

"You must know, madam,” said he, speaking to the 
bride, as if she were already a married fairy, "that the 
cuckoo is a bird of love. Some say that the bread is 
called cuckoo bread because the cuckoo likes to feed on 
it, and some say it is because the flower opens when the 
cuckoo sings. Either way the story has love in it, and 
that’s as it should be at a wedding.” 

The gay bride laughed again like golden musical bells, 
and said, "My teeth will love it, any way.” 

Just as the last tinkle died merrily away, into the shop 
flew a mother swallow. There were tears in her eyes. 

"Give me some swallow herb,” she cried; "some boys 
have blinded my nestlings with sling shots.” 

"Oh, how cruel,” wailed the little bride, now as sad 
as sad could be, in spite of her duty to the prince. 

"Yes,” said the swallow, weeping afresh; "but my 
husband’s mother tells me swallow herb rubbed on the 
eyes will bring the sight back.” 

"Do hurry, please, with it,” cried the bride, to the 
shopkeepers. 


THE HERB SHOP 


65 

‘‘Your high-flying cousin, the eagle, uses wild lettuce 
to sharpen his sight,” said the fairy wife, wringing her 
hands at the mother’s grief. ''Are you sure swallow 
herb — ” 

‘'Yes, she is sure,” said a voice. They all heard it. 

"What can be the matter with this shop to-night?” 
cried the fairy wife. 

While the rest were listening amazed, the small man 
went sniffing at each of the herbs. "Ah, here’s the balm, 
at last,” he cried; "I smell the lemon scent of it. Here 
is some balm, poor swallow, to put on your own broken 
heart.” 

But the swallow only wept and begged the fairy wife 
to hurry with the swallow herb. 

"Here it is, weeping mother,” said the jolly elf, sor- 
rowfully. "Don’t stop to pay the bit of silver moon- 
light. You may bring it — ” 

"Yes, and bring all the little swallows to my wed- 
ding,” cried the bride, now merry again, "I’ll ask the 
prince to make a law that no sling shots — ” 

But the swallow had seized the herb in her beak and 
was already half-way back to her nest. 

Well, the cook at once went on with his order. "I’ll 
take a thimbleful of caraway seeds to flavor the bride- 
cake,” said he. "Ah, yes,” he cried, looking pleased at 
something he had thought of, "the prince will like that. 
The good joke will make everyone laugh. You see the 


66 


THE FIVE SENSES 


joke, don’t you?” he asked anxiously. ‘'A bridecake 
with car-a-way seeds in it is to be eaten at a wedding, 
where the bridegroom car-ries-a-way the bride.” 

‘‘Ha, ha, ha,” laughed all the small people; “that is a 
good joke.” 

As they stopped, they heard loud mortal voices singing 
outsidp. In a twinkling all had scampered into holes 
and corners and cracks and crevices. But they cocked 
their ears to hear. Someone sang 

‘Tn my garden grew plenty of thyme,^ 

It flourished by night and by day; 

O’er the wall came a lad, 

He took all that I had, 

And stole my thyme away.” 

“Those are gipsies,” whispered the jolly elf; “one of 
them has climbed over the hedge and he is stealing 
Mother Herb Witch’s thyme.” 

“It’s a shame,” cried his wife, softly. “Honesty is 
an herb that would never grow for him. You know the 
old saying about the herb, ‘Honesty grows best in an 
honest man’s garden.’ ” 

“Ha!” cried the royal gardener, “he didn’t get the 
thyme, after all. There’s someone calling to him and 
chasing him, but it’s not the town constable.” 

“I’ll bet you a red fairy apple it’s Mother Herb 
Witch,” whispered the fairy wife. “She’s around this 
shop somewhere to-night.” 


THE HERB SHOP 67 

''Sh! there they go off now. Hark! Listen to what 
they say:” 

''Give us bacon, 

Rinds of walnuts, 

Shells of cockle, 

And of small nuts; 

/ Ribbons, bells. 

And saffroned linen; 

All the world is ours 
To live in.'' 

''It’s a pity they can’t earn the little they need and not 
steal it,” said the queen’s housekeeper. "Lazy bones, I 
call them.” 

At this minute in from the beds of ragwort outside 
dashed nine fairy cobblers. 

"We’ve a great rush of work on to-night,” cried the 
nine, stamping about as if beside themselves. "Fifty- 
five pixies and ninety-five hobgoblins have sent their 
dancing slippers to be mended in time for the wedding. 
We’ve run out of silk thread. Have you any thistle- 
down? We shall need a whole pod. Hurry please, 
hurry please, hurry — ” 

"Don’t forget to come to my wedding yourselves,” 
said the bride. 

"We’ll be there,” shouted all but one. 

"I must count my treasure to see whether I can spare 
you a present,” said this little miser, but softly, for he 
knew she was to be the prince’s bride. 


68 


THE FIVE SENSES 


‘‘Hurry, please, hurry — ” cried the others again, — just 
as the day began to dawn. 

At this minute Mother Herb Witch caught sight of 
Peter and Robert with their eyes glued to the ragwort 
beds in front of the shop. She looked quickly back into 
the shop. But the fairy folk had already seen the streak. 
Out the back door were vanishing small man with the 
rheumatism, bride, bridesmaids, flower strewers, pages, 
footmen, musicians, gardener, housekeeper, cook, and 
cobblers. 

The miserly fairy cobbler was very nearly caught. 
He was dashing around to the ragwort bed to count his 
treasure when he caught sight of peeping eyes. Back 
he sped like lightning and went off with the others. 

So the boys had to go home without the treasure. 

“The fairy cobblers have a right to their own,” said 
Mother Herb Witch to Philip as she saw the boys go. 

PART III 

That very New Year’s Eve the boys suspected she 
knew of their plan. ITl tell you why. 

Just as the Old Year was passing away, they looked 
out to see the New Year come. All of a sudden the 
moon went under a cloud, but they made out a shadowy 
figure, stooped and pointed like Mother Herb Witch, fly- 
ing past the houses, and stopping for a second wherever a 
boy or girl lived. And when she had passed their houses 


THE HERB SHOP 


69 


there came to their noses the most delicious smell. Pell 
mell they rushed down the stairs. There on the doorstep 
were two monstrous oranges stuck full of cloves and tied 
with a sprig of Rosemary. And on a queer pointed card 
was scrawled, ‘'May the New Year bring you richer 
pleasure than fairy treasure.” 

“She knew all about it,” said Robert to Peter, when 
they found out that no one else had two oranges nor such 
big ones, nor such a message. And Peter agreed. 

“Mother Herb Witch’s a very strange person,” said 
Peter often to his mother. “Do you think she believes 
in ragwort treasure? Or in queer things like swallow 
herb, or hound’s bark for rubbing on the soles of the feet 
to keep hounds from barking?” 

“I don’t know,” said his mother. “But she keeps ex- 
cellent parsley and thyme. And I’m putting my best 
silk away in her lavender.” 

Just then the wind blew their way. “M-m! O my 
snub nose!” said Peter; “isn’t the smell of her shop b-e- 
au-tiful? That’s real anyway.” 

The village may be sniffing it yet, for all I know, if 
Mother Herb Witch hasn’t gone away forever and aye 
to live in the heart of the hill. 


ANGELA M. KEYES 



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THE FIVE SENSES 


73 


FORTUNE’S FEATHER 

OW I am going to tell a story,” said the Wind. 

^ ‘Tardon me,” said the Rain, “but now it is my 
turn. You have been howling around the corner this 
long time past.” 

“Is that the way you speak to me?” said the Wind, 
“me, who turn inside out when people are against you?” 

“/ am going to speak!” said the Sunshine. “Silence!” 

The Sunshine said it with such glory and majesty that 
the Wind fell flat. The Rain beat against him, and 
shook him, and said, “We won’t stand it! She always 
breaks through, that Madame Sunshine!” 

But the Sunshine began : 

“Once a beautiful swan flew over the ocean. His 
feathers shone like gold, he was the bird of Fortune. 

“He flew into the quiet, lonely forest. Here he rested 
awhile on the dark, deep lake, where the water lilies 
grow, where the wild apples are to be found on the 
shore, where the cuckoo and wild pigeons have their 
homes. 

“A poor woman with a little child in her arms was in 
the wood gathering firewood. She saw the golden swan 
rise from among the reeds on the shore. What was that 


74 


THE FIVE SENSES 


glittering? A golden egg! She picked it up and laid 
it in her bosom. The warmth was in it. There was life 
in the egg! She heard a gentle pecking inside of the 
shell, but thought it was only her own heart beating. 

‘'At home in the poor cottage she took out the egg. 
‘Tick, tick,’ it said, as if it were a valuable gold watch. 
But it was only an egg, a real, living egg. The egg 
cracked and opened, and a little baby swan, all covered 
with purest gold put out its head. Round its neck were 
four rings. 

“Now the poor woman had four boys, so she under- 
stood at once that here was a ring for each boy. Just 
as she thought of that the little golden bird flew away, 
leaving the rings in her hand. She kissed each ring, 
made each of the children kiss one of the rings, laid it 
next the child’s heart, then put it on his finger. 

“ ‘I saw it all,’ said the Sunshine, ‘and I saw what 
followed.’ 

“One of the boys was playing in the ditch. He took 
a lump of clay in his hand. He turned it and twisted 
it and pressed it with his thumbs till it took shape. And 
lo! there was the shape of Jason who went out to search 
for the golden fleece and found it. This boy became a 
sculptor. 

“The second boy ran out into the meadow, where the 
flowers grew, flowers of all colors. He gathered a 
handful, and squeezed them so that the juice spurted 
into his eyes and some of it wetted the ring. The juice 


FORTUNE’S FEATHER 


75 


ran through his thoughts and his hands, and with it he 
made pictures of what he saw. By and by people talked 
of him as a great painter. 

“The third child pressed the ring with his fingers. It 
gave forth sound, an echo of the music within him. He 
became a musician and so true was the music he made 
that every country has the right to say, ‘He was mine!’ 

“And the fourth little one — the one the mother held 
in her arms when she saw the golden bird — looked good 
for nothing. At least so the people -said. They said 
he had the pip, and must have pepper and butter, as the 
little sick chickens did; and that he got. ‘But of me,’ 
said the Sunshine, ‘he got a warm sunny kiss.’ He be- 
came the best of all, a poet. As people sang his thoughts 
the thoughts took wings and flew up and away like sing- 
ing butterflies. And butterflies, you know, make us 
think of life again after sleep. 

“I think we had better stop now,” said the Wind. 

“And I also,” said the Rain. 

And what do we others who have heard the story say? 
We say, “Now my story’s done.” 

FROM HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 


76 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE ELF AND THE DORMOUSE 

U NDER a toadstool 
Crept a wee Elf, 

Out of the rain, 

To shelter himself. 

Under the toadstool 
Sound asleep, 

Sat a big Dormouse 
All in a heap. 

Trembled the wee Elf, 

Frightened, and yet 
Fearing to fly away. 

Lest he get wet, 

To the next shelter — 

Maybe a mile! 

Sudden the wee Elf 

Smiled a wee smile, 

Tugged till the toadstool 
Toppled in two. 

Holding it over him, 

Gayly he flew. 


THE ELF AND THE DORMOUSE 


77 


Soon he was safe home, 

Dry as could be. 

Soon woke the Dormouse — 

''Good gracious me! 

"Where is my toadstool?’’ 

Loud he lamented. 

— And that’s how umbrellas 
First were invented. 

’ OLIVER HERFORD 


THE FIVE SENSES 


A RIDDLE 


Here’s a riddle to give your friends : 

WO brothers are we, with five children apiece, 



X A number which rarely is known to increase ; 
We are large, hard, and black. 

We are soft, white, and small. 

But without us mankind could do nothing at all. 

We laboured with Adam in tilling the ground. 

Yet in the queen’s court we may also be found. 
Without us no vessel the ocean could roam. 

Yet though we go forth, you will find us at home. 

If you can’t find us out, why to cut short our story. 
When you sit down to dinner 
You have us before ye. 


(the hands 


THE FIVE SENSES 


79 


THE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER 



HERE was once a good shoemaker who, through no 


fault of his own, became so poor that at last he had 
only enough leather for one pair of shoes. At evening he 
cut out the shoes to begin upon them early next morn- 
ing. Then he said his prayers, and went to bed and soon 
fell asleep. 

In the morning when he had prayed, as usual, and was 
going to sit down to work, he found the pair of shoes 
standing finished on his table. He was amazed. 

He took the shoes in his hand to look at them more 
closely. There was not a stitch out of place. They 
were as well done as the work of a master hand. Soon 
after, a customer came in, and was so much pleased 
with the shoes, he paid a large price for them. So with 
the money the shoemaker was able to buy leather for 
two pairs. 

He cut these out in the evening, and next day got 
ready again to work. But again he had no need to. 
The shoes stood finished ! Customers paid him so 
much money for them that he was able to buy leather 
for four pairs. Next morning he found the four pairs 
finished. 


8o 


THE FIVE SENSES 


And so it went on; what he cut out at evening was 
finished in the morning, so that he soon became a well- 
to-do man. 

Now it happened one evening, not long before Christ- 
mas, when he had cut out shoes as usual, that he said to 
his wife; “How would it be if we were to sit up to- 
night to see who it is that lends us a helping hand?” 

The wife agreed. So they hid themselves in the cor- 
ner of the room behind clothes hanging there. 

At midnight in came two little naked men. They 
skipped over to the shoemaker’s table, took up the work, 
and began to stitch, sew, and hammer so neatly and 
quickly, that the shoemaker could not believe his eyes. 
They did not stop till everything was finished, and stand- 
ing ready on the table. Then they ran swiftly away. 

The next day the wife said, “The little men have 
made us rich, and we ought to show our gratitude. 
They run about with nothing on, and must freeze with 
cold. Now I will make them little shirts, coats, waist- 
coats, and hose, and will even knit them stout stockings, 
and you shall make them each a pair of shoes.” 

The husband agreed, and at evening, when they had 
everything ready, they laid out the presents on the table, 
and hid themselves to see how the little men would be- 
have. 

At midnight the little elves came skipping in, and were 
about to set to work, when, instead of the leather ready 
cut out, they found the charming little clothes. 


THE ELVES AND THE SHOEMAKER 


8i 


At first they were surprised, then delighted. They 
put them on eagerly and smoothed them down, singing : 

‘‘Now weTe dressed so fine and neat, 

Why cobble more for others’ feet? 

Good luck we leave behind for those 
Who for us made these pretty clothes.” 

Then they hopped and danced about, and leaped over 
chairs and tables and out at the door. 

They came back no more, but the shoemaker had good 
luck as long as he lived. 

Folk tale 

This is a good story to play during the winter holidays 
at school or at home. What fun to be the elves ! And 
what fun to be the shoemaker and his wife peeping at 
them! 


THE FIVE SENSES 


LITTLE BROWN HANDS 

T hey drive home the cows from the pasture, 
Up through the long shady lane, 

Where the quail whistles loud in the wheat fields. 
That are yellow with ripening grain. 

They find in the thick waving grasses. 

Where the scarlet-lipped strawberry grows. 
They gather the earliest snowdrops. 

And the first crimson buds of the rose. 

They toss the new hay in the meadow; 

They gather the elder-bloom white; 

They find where the dusky grapes purple 
In the soft-tinted October light. 

They know where the apples hang ripest. 

And are sweeter than Italy’s wines; 

They know where the fruit hangs the thickest 
On the long, thorny blackberry-vines. 

They gather the delicate sea-weeds. 

And build tiny castles of sand; 

They pick up the beautiful sea-shells, — 

Fairy barks that have drifted to land. 
They wave from the tall, rocking tree-tops 

Where the oriole’s hammock-nest swings; 
And at night-time are folded in slumber 

By a song that a fond mother sings. 


LITTLE BROWN HANDS 


83 


Those who toil bravely are strongest; 

The humble and poor become great; 
And so from these brown-handed children 

Shall grow mighty rulers of state. 
The pen of the author and statesman, — 

The noble and wise of the land, — 
The sword, and the chisel, and palette. 

Shall be held in the little brown hand. 


84 


THE FIVE SENSES 


JACK THE GIANT KILLER 

W HEN good King Arthur ruled the land there 
lived near Land’s End in England, in a place 
called Cornwall, a farmer who had an only son named 
Jack. Jack was wide awake and ready of wit so that 
nobody and nothing could worst him. 

In those days the Mount of Cornwall was kept by a 
huge giant named Cormoran. He was so fierce and 
frightful to look at that he was the terror of all the neigh- 
boring towns and villages. He lived in a cave in the 
side of the mount and whenever he wanted food he 
waded over to the mainland and took whatever came in 
his way. At his coming everybody ran away and then 
of course he seized the cattle. He made nothing of 
carrying off half-a-dozen oxen on his back at a time, and 
as for sheep and hogs he tied them around his waist as if 
they were tallow dips. He had done this for many years 
and all Cornwall was in despair. 

One day Jack happened to be in the town hall when 
the magistrates were sitting in council to think what 
was best to do. 

‘‘What reward,” he asked, “will be given to the man 
who kills Cormoran?” 


JACK THE GIANT KILLER 85 

‘‘He may take the treasure the giant has stored in his 
cave/’ they said. 

Quoth Jack, ‘‘Let me have a try at it.” 

So he got a horn and shovel and pickaxe. And in the 
dark of a winter’s evening he went over to the mount 
and fell to work. Before morning he had dug a pit 
twenty-two feet deep and nearly as broad and covered 
it with sticks and straw. Then he strewed a little earth 
over it so that it looked like plain ground. He then 
placed himself on the farther side of the pit and just at 
the break of day, put his horn to his mouth and blew, 
“Tan-tiv-y, Tan-tiv-y.” 

The noise roused the giant. He rushed out of his 
cave, crying, “You villain, have you come here to dis- 
turb my rest? You shall pay dearly for this. I will 
take you whole and broil you for breakfast.” He had 
no sooner said this than he tumbled into the pit and 
made the very foundations of the mount shake. 

“O, Giant,” quoth Jack, “where are you? Has the 
earth swallowed you up? What do you think now of 
broiling me for breakfast? Will no other food do than 
sweet Jack?” Then he gave a most mighty knock with 
his pickaxe on the very crown of the giant’s big head and 
killed him on the spot. 

Jack then filled up the pit with earth and went to the 
cave and took the treasure. 

When the magistrates heard of Jack’s success they 
were so glad the troublesome Cormoran was done for 


86 THE FIVE SENSES 

they made a law and wrote it on their books that hence- 
forth Jack should be called 

Jack-the-Giant-Killer 

and they gave him a sword and belt, and on the belt they 
wrote these words 

‘'Here’s the right valiant Cornish man, 

Who slew the giant Cormoran.” 

English folk tale 

(It is fun to play this story. Try it and see.) 


THE FIVE SENSES 


87 



BEES 

Bees doiiT care about the snow; 
I can tell you why that’s so : 

Once I caught a little bee 
Who was much too warm for me! 


FRANK DEMFSTER SHERMAN 


88 


THE FIVE SENSES 


A CHILL 

T hat can lambkins do 

All the keen night through? 
Nestle by their woolly mother, 

The careful ewe. 

What can nestlings do 
In the nightly dew? 

Sleep beneath their mother’s wing 
Till day breaks anew. 

If in field or tree 
There might only be 

Such a warm soft sleeping-place 
Found for me! 


CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 


THE FIVE SENSES 


89 


WHAT BLACK BEAUTY DID 

/^NE day late in the autumn Black Beauty, as pretty 
a little horse as ever wore a white star in his fore- 
head, found himself driving his master into town, a good 
many miles away. The dogcart was light so that, al- 
though it carried John, the coachman, as well. Black 
Beauty drew it easily. 

All went merrily until the little horse came to the toll- 
gate leading to a low wooden bridge. Here he noticed 
that the river was greatly swollen from the heavy rains 
that had fallen lately. It was so high that the middle 
of the bridge rested on it. 

'‘The river is rising fast,’’ said the tollkeeper, as he 
let them pass. 'T fear we shall have a wild night.” 
Black Beauty could not answer, of course, but his master 
said, "The wind blows a gale; I fear so too.” 

The master delayed so long in the town that it was 
getting on toward evening when Black Beauty turned 
his head home. The wind was higher. As he went 
along by the edge of the wood the great branches of the 
trees were swaying in its grasp as if they were nothing 
but twigs. And the sound of rushing water in the dis- 
tance was terrifying. 


90 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Black Beauty heard his master say: ‘1 wish we were 
well out of this wood.” Scarcely were the words out of 
his mouth when there was a groan, and a crack, and a 
splitting and tearing and crashing. And down through 
the other trees came an oak, torn up by the roots, and it 
fell straight across the road. 

Little Black Beauty was frightened. He stopped, 
trembling all over. But he did not turn round nor run 
away; he was no coward. John jumped out and patted 
his head and talked to him. 

“That was a narrow escape,” Black Beauty heard his 
master say; “what’s to be done now?” 

“Well, sir,” said John, “we can’t drive over that tree, 
nor get round it. There’s nothing to it but to go back 
to the crossways. From that it will be a good six miles 
to the wooden bridge, but once there we are nearly home. 
It’s getting late but Black Beauty is fresh.” 

So back Black Beauty turned, but although he ran 
with a will by the time he got to the bridge it was nearly 
dark. He could just make out that the water was over 
the middle of it. And the moment his feet touched the 
planks of the bridge he felt sure there was something 
wrong. He came to a dead stop. 

“Go on. Beauty,” said his master, and gave him a touch 
of the whip. But Beauty felt that he dared not stir. 
His master gave him a sharp cut. Black Beauty jumped 
but did not go forward. 

“There’s something wrong, sir,” said John. He 


WHAT BLACK BEAUTY DID 


91 


sprang out of the dogcart and looked all around. Then 
he tried to lead the horse forward, '‘Come on, Beauty,” 
he said, “what’s the matter?” Beauty could not tell 
him that he knew that the bridge was not safe. 

Just then the man at the toll gate, at the other end of 
the bridge, ran out of the house, swinging a lighted torch 
about like a madman. 

“Hoy, hoy, hoy, hallo! stop!” he cried. 

“What’s the matter?” shouted the master, above the 
voice of wind and waters. 

“The bridge has broken in the middle and part of it has 
been carried down by the river,” yelled back the man. 
“If you come on, you’ll plunge into the river.” 

“Good little Beauty, you’ve saved us,” said the master. 
And John took Black Beauty gently by the bridle and 
turned him into the road along by the river. Little by 
little the wind lulled and it grew darker and stiller. 
Black Beauty trotted steadily on and soon landed his 
master and John safe at home. 

They took him to the stable and gave him a feast of 
bran mash and put some crushed beans into his oats. 
And John spread for his tired body a thick bed of fresh 
straw. 

“Good night, little horse,” said the master; “you’re 
the best friend and the prettiest little Black Beauty that 
ever wore a star in his forehead.” 


FROM ANNA SEWELL 


92 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE STORY AND GAME OF GOING TO 
SCHOOL 

O NE day one child met another and said, ‘‘Whither 
goest thou?” And the child answered, “To school.” 
When she heard this the first child sang out 

‘Tf thou’lt go to school 
I’ll go to school,” 

and she took the child’s hand and skipped along with her 
singing 

‘‘So, so, 

Together we go.” 

When they had gone a little way the first child stopped 
the other and asked, “What takest thou with thee to 
learn?” And the child answered, “My eyes, to see 
things beautiful.” At this the first child sang out, point- 
ing at the other and at herself, 

“Thy eyes. 

My eyes. 

Thou to school, 

I to school;” 

and they took hands and skipped along together singing 


GOING TO SCPiOOL 


93 


“So, so, 

Together we go.” 

When they had gone a little way farther the first child 
stopped the other and asked, '‘What else takest with 
thee to learn?” And the child answered, “My ears, to 
hear things true.” At this both children sang out, point- 
ing at each other and at themselves, 

“Thy ears, 

My ears, 

Thou to school, 

I to school;” 

and they took hands and skipped along together singing 
“So, so. 

Together we go.” 

When they had gone a little way farther the first 
child stopped the other and asked, “What else takest 
with thee to learn?” And the child answered, “My 
nose, to smell things sweet.” At this both children sang 
out 

“Thy nose. 

My nose, 

I to school. 

Thou to school ;” 

and they took hands and skipped along together singing 
“So, so. 

Together we go,” 


94 


THE FIVE SENSES 


When they had gone a little way farther the first child 
stopped the other and asked, ‘'Hast aught else with thee 
to learn?” And the child answered, “My tongue, to 
taste things wholesome, and kind words aye to speak.” 
At this both children sang out 

‘Thy tongue, 

My tongue, 

Thou to school, 

I to school;’' 

and they took hands and skipped along together singing 
“So, so. 

Together we go.” 

When they had gone a little way farther the first child 
stopped the other and asked, “Hast aught else with thee 
to learn?” And the child answered, “My hands, to do 
things useful. Dost think I have enough?” 

At this both children sang out 

“Thy hands. 

My hands. 

Thou to school, 

I to school;” 

and they took hands and skipped along together singing 
“So, so, 

Together we go.” 


GOING TO SCHOOL 


95 


And when they were near the school the first child 
stopped the other in great alarm and asked, “Hast time 
for play?” “Yea,” said the other, “part of each day.” 
At this they both sang and made believe to do — 

'To jump and to run, 

To chase you in fun, 

In hide-and-go-seek, 

I’ll hear if you speak. 

When near you I creep, 
ril spy if you peep.” 

And so that day. 

Happy and gay. 

To school they went. 

To work and to play. 

ANGELA M. KEYES 

(This quaint story makes a good skipping game. Any number of 
couples may play, if all go the same way.) 


96 


THE FIVE SENSES 


AGNESE AND HER FRUIT STAND 

T he children all knew Italian Agnese and called her 
by name. The reason they knew her was that she 
kept a fruit stand, and was blind. Besides she had the 
cunningest fat, black-eyed, crowing baby on the block; 
and she had a machine for roasting peanuts. The baby’s 
father was dead, poor little one; but for that the chil- 
dren petted him the more. And the reason they called 
her by name was that everybody did. Besides she 
would sometimes let the girls carry off the baby; and 
once in a great while she would let the boys turn the 
peanut machine. 

Her fruit stand was on the corner of a dirty city street. 
But it made up for the dirt. It was lovely- to the eye, 
sweet to the nose, and it set the mouth watering. 

Even the grownups noticed it. The Irish milkman, 
who passed it on his way home every morning, would 
call out to Agnese, ‘‘The top o’ the marnin’ to ye. It’s 
yersel’ that kin make it as purty as a picter. How is that 
black-eyed rogue?” 

Agnese in great delight would point out the milkman 
to the baby. And the baby would gurgle and crow as 
the Irishman shook his fist in fun. 


AGNESE AND HER FRUIT STAND 


97 


The German baker’s wife next door would catch sight 
of the stand as she piled hot fresh-smelling loaves in the 
window. And she would come to the door to say, “Ach! 
it does mine heart goot to see it so neat!” The poet in 
the house across the street would call out from his win- 
dow perch in a hall bedroom five flights up, ‘Tt is a thing 
of beauty and a joy forever.” The shabby artist in the 
velvet coat would stop before it and thrust his hands into 
his pockets, for he was hungry. ''How she matches and 
mixes the colors!” he would exclaim. "Thy mother, 
bambino, can make the beautiful!” 

No one but the children, though, said anything about 
Agnese’s blind eyes. And they said the most charming 
things. They admired the fruit too. You shall hear. 

One morning Auguste, Katherine, and Lucy were at 
last up in time to see Agnese get her stand ready for the 
day. It was so early that the baker’s shop had not yet 
opened, except in the cellar, where the ovens are. The 
Irish milkman was still on his rounds, leaving a trail of 
bottles of milk behind him. The poet and the artist 
were abed, dreaming, and shutting their eyes again if 
they woke, not to let the dream go. 

"Good morning, Agnese,” sang out the children, as 
soon as her cart was near enough. 

"Good morning, my early birds,” she called back at 
once. "You will catch not one worm in my fruit. I 
have brought back the soundest in the market.” She 
laughed, showing her pretty white teeth. 


98 


THE FIVE SENSES 


The cart drew up at the corner. The children saw 
that it was bulging with fruit. Agnese threw the reins 
over the horse’s back and stepped lightly down. 

''How well you drive, Agnese,” said Auguste. "You 
do not need eyes to see which way to go! You could be 
a coachman instead of a fruit lady.” 

"Ah, it is my old horse knows every step of the way, 
and obeys my lightest pull on the rein.” Agnese patted 
the horse’s nose and fed him a lump of sugar from a 
gay pocket hanging at her belt. 

"Now,” she cried, bustling about, "I must take out the 
best and sweetest cherry first.” And out she lifted her 
baby, cradle and all. With a finger on her lip, not to 
wake him, she gave them a peep. There he lay as snug 
as the richest baby in bed at home. 

"He’s fast asleep, the dear little ducky,” whispered 
Lucy. 

"Look at his fist,” said Auguste; "we’d better not wake 
him. He may give us a punch.” 

Agnese set the cradle safe away. Then she was ready 
for the fruit stand. 

'‘May we help you unload the wagon'?” asked Kath- 
erine. "We will be very careful.” 

"Yes, and we will do everything you tell us, dear 
Agnese,” said Lucy. 

"We will not eat even one grape,” said Auguste. 

"Ah, it is very glad indeed I am, to have your help,” 
cried Agnese, "for the stable boy will soon come for the 


AGNESE AND HER FRUIT STAND 


99 


horse and cart. And before we begin I shall give each 
of you the very juiciest pear I can find.” 

The children all said together that she must not do any 
such thing. They said they would not take it. But 
when they saw that she really wished them to have the 
pears, they ate them down to the very stems. I’m not 
sure that Auguste did not eat stem and all. 

“How clever you are, Agnese,” said Katherine, as she 
finished the last delicious bit; “you did not see the pears 
to pick them out.” 

“What a goose I’d be,” laughed Agnese, “to give you 
bananas in mistake. Haven’t I a nose that can tell a 
pear from a banana? Besides, and this is how I tell 
most things, haven’t I my hands to touch them? I can 
feel their smooth skins and the necks on them. I’m not 
clever.” 

“Well,” said Auguste, “some people with noses and 
hands and eyes too are very stupid. I know a boy — ” 

“Tut, tut,” said Agnese, “to work, to work!” 

You should have seen Agnese prepare the fruit stand. 
When all the baskets were laid near on the sidewalk, 
she uncovered the stand, and touched it lightly with 
her fingers. 

“Ah, the wicked dust has got in again. I drove him 
out before I left. I’ll banish him.” She brought out 
a stiff cloth and did. 

“Now,” said she, “for our fruit. The apples may have 
their cheeks polished, but the pears I must rub only 


lOO 


THE FIVE SENSES 


gently, not to crack their skins. None but fruit good 
at the heart shall go on my stand. I shall try you over 
again, sirs, before I let you pass,” said she, with a nod 
of her shining black head. 

That was the best of Agnese, she could play a game 
with anything. 

She held each apple and pear in her hand to weigh 
it, and felt it over with her fingers for bad spots. 

And what wonderful things she made! 

When she had piled up the last pear and stuck a piece 
of brown stem in the top, she stepped back for the chil- 
dren to see. 

''Why, Agnese, you’ve built up a big golden pear!” 
cried Lucy. "Isn’t it beautiful!” 

"Ha! you like it?” said Agnese, well pleased. "See 
what I make of the apples,” said she. 

The children watched breathlessly as she polished and 
piled one round layer of red and yellow apples on top 
of another. She hadn’t gone far up when they burst out 
together, "It’s a round tower.” 

"So it is,” she said; "I know some children who are 
the clever ones.” 

Up and up she went. On the very top she placed a 
green branch. It waved in the early morning breeze. 

"You do make the most beautiful things, Agnese,” said 
Lucy. 

"I am sure you are an artist,” said Katherine. 

"Ha!” said Agnese, in high good humor; "what fun 


AGNESE AND HER FRUIT STAND 


lOI 


to be a fruit lady and a coachman and now an artist.” 

‘Tsn’t it a pity the tower must come down as you sell 
the apples?” said Auguste. 

''But what would the bambino do for food and cloth- 
ing if his mother sold no fruit and made no pennies?” 
cried Agnese. 'T know I shall have an empty fruit stand 
this evening. Am I not taking pains with it to please 
some little friends of mine?” said she, slyly. 

The children laughed with pleasure. 

"Of course,” said Auguste, "you might play war, and 
pretend that the buyers are the enemy. They are paying 
you to take down the walls of the tower and let out 
the prisoners.” 

"Bravo!” said Agnese, "that will be fun. Play war 
is much better than real war.” 

"Let me see now what else I have,” said she, feeling 
the fruit. "Ah, you are round and firm, with soft down 
on your cheek. I must not brush that off. I know you, 
my beauties; you are my downy peaches. And these 
soft ones in the next basket, not so large and round, but 
so cool to my touch are my lovely dark purple plums. 
There is a downy bloom on them, too, that I must not 
brush off.” 

"Not one mistake, Agnese,” cried the children. 

"But my examination is not over,” said Agnese, pre- 
tending at once they were examining her, "let me try 
to name every one; perhaps I may miss on fruits after 
all.” 


102 THE FIVE SENSES 

‘'Not you/’ said Auguste, “you will get one hundred 
per cent.” 

“These heavy bunches are the grapes; they were 
plucked this very morning, the dew is still on them,” 
said Agnese ; “I must not dry them. The long ones are 
the white ones and the round ones the purple. Is it not 
so?” 

“Yes, yes,” cried the children, “you haven’t missed.” 

“Ah,” said she, passing her hand quickly from one 
basket to another, “and now I come to grape fruit, 
oranges, and lemons.” 

“O, those will be hard to tell apart ; do not miss, dear 
Agnese,” cried Lucy, anxiously. 

“Huh!” said Auguste, “of course she won’t.” But 
he too bent over a little anxiously. 

You should have seen the fun in Agnese’s face ! She 
put out her hand, then drew it back, and wrinkled her 
forehead. Katherine saw through her, “You are only 
making believe,” she cried. “Time is up. You must 
tell at once.” 

“Well,” said Agnese, “I hope I shall not miss. My 
nose shall not help me,” she said, holding it with one 
hand. “These round heavy fellows with the smooth skin 
are — grape fruit.” 

“Good for you!” cried Auguste, waving his cap. 

“And these smaller round fellows with rougher skins 
are — oranges.” 

“Right!” shrieked Lucy, clapping her hands. 


AGNESE AND HER FRUIT STAND 


103 

‘'And these with the round knobs at one end of them 
are — are — ” 

“Don’t miss, dear, dear Agnese,” begged Katherine; 
“I think you should let your nose help you.” 

“No, no,” cried Agnese, pinching it together more 
tightly; “they are — lemons!” 

“One hundred per cent.,” cried the children, “hurrah 
for Agnese!” 

“The bananas arc very easy,” said she, “they won’t 
count. And here are nuts,” running her fingers through 
them. “I know them too. Here are those two-sided 
rough butternuts with the round, curved backs be- 
tween. Here are peanuts like little fat ladies without 
head or feet, and tied in the middle.” 

The children chuckled at that. 

“Must I prove that I know the rest” asked Agnese. 

“No, no,” they said, “we’ll give you a hundred per 
cent, on the nuts, and on the dates and figs too.” 

Well, after that Agnese worked like a beaver. And 
whenever she could, she made what the children asked 
for. 

She built the peaches up into a rosy pyramid with 
fresh green leaves between every two layers. At the 
other end of the stand she heaped a small mountain of 
grape fruit, oranges, and lemons, with a path made of 
nuts. In the center she placed the brown block of dates. 

“That’s a house in the valley,” said Lucy. 

“Oh, yes,” said Auguste, “and because a band of 


104 


THE FIVE SENSES 


robbers lives in the mountains, the people get in and 
out by a hidden door underground.” 

“That’s the reason too that the house has no win- 
dows,” said Katherine. 

“Of course,” said Auguste. 

While they were talking Agnese did something to the 
house that left the children speechless with delight. 
She topped it with a pointed roof of figs. 

As soon as Lucy could get her breath she cried, “I 
almost wish / were blind, Agnese!” 

“Oh, no,” said Agnese, quickly, “keep those gray eyes 
of yours open to the light.” 

“Why, Agnese, how do you know they are gray*?” 

“Isn’t your name Lucy?” asked Agnese. 

“Agnese, you are clever, no matter what you say,” 
said Auguste. 

Well, such a success as that fruit stand was! Every 
child for blocks around came to buy. And as for the 
grownups, they praised Agnese and the baby so much, 
although all he did was to crow at it, that Agnese was 
happier than a queen with a gold crown on her head. 

“Sure it’s an architec’ yer mother is, ye black-eyed 
rogue,” said the Irish milkman. 

“Ach, mein friend,” said the German baker’s wife, 
throwing up her hands, “you have the talent!” 

“I shall make a beautiful story in verse out of it,” 
cried out the poet, seizing a pen. “It will make my 
fortune.” 


AGNESE AND HER FRUIT STAND 


105 

‘‘Ah/’ said the artist, ‘‘little bambino, thy mother has 
a very pretty fancy. See that later on thou carve a 
statue of her in fine marble.’’ The baby did not under- 
stand a word that he said. But the mother cried, “O, 
I have great hopes of him; his grandfather was a 
sculptor.” 

It was the children’s praise that Agnese liked best. 
“Isn’t Agnese wonderful?” they said to one another. 
“She does not need eyes. She can make anything with 
her thoughts and her fingers.” 


ANGELA M. KEYES 


io6 


THE FIVE SENSES 


GOOD AND BAD APPLES 

T here was a little apple tree near the garden wall. 

Not far from it was the plaster statue of a young 
man leaning on a hoe, — Old Hoe, he was called. He 
had nothing to do but to watch the trees and flowers, and 
think about them. Old Hoe always thought aloud: — 
'‘So, here is a new-comer,” said he, "and it is to bear 
apples — is it? It has a hard task before it. It takes 
a great deal to make an apple. It must rain just so of- 
ten, and the sun must shine just so many days, and the 
wind must not blow too hard, and it must not hail when 
the blossoms come. It is a wonder that there are ever 
any apples at all; and then, they are picked and put 
in a basket. Seems to me it is hardly worth while to 
go through so many troubles, just to be picked and 
put in a basket.” 

"But what am I to do?” asked the young apple tree. 
Old Hoe did not answer; he never was known to join 
in talk with others. The world might hear, if it liked, 
when he spoke out, but he had too many thoughts in his 
head merely to make conversation. 

The sun shone, the rain fell, the wind blew, there was 
hail and snow and ice. And by and by six blossoms came 


GOOD AND BAD APPLES 


107 


upon the little apple tree. And after the blossoms came 
just two apples, for the other four blossoms came to noth- 
ing. Two rosy apples! the little tree was very proud 
of them. 

"'Ah! two apples,’’ said Old Hoe one day; "they are 
not very large either. Seems to me it is rather a small 
affair for the wind, and the sun, and rain, and this ap- 
ple tree, to work so hard and make only two apples. 
Why should not everything make everything bigger 
than itself?” and Old Hoe stared down the garden. A 
hen just then laid an egg under the hedge, and was off 
telling her neighbors. "Now that hen made an egg,” 
Old Hoe went on; "but seems to me the egg ought to 
have made the hen.” He was puzzled, but nobody 
would suspect it, for he looked very grave. 

The little apple tree, meanwhile, was lifting up her 
head bravely, and holding out her two apples at arm’s 
length, on opposite sides. They could not see each 
other ; but they could talk, though they had not much to 
say. They were twins. 

"Brother,” said One to the Other, "how do you grow 
to-day? Do you feel pretty mellow?” 

"I can’t yet feel very warm,” said the Other, "but 
then the sun is not very high. How delightful it is to 
be getting riper every day. I only hope we shall not 
be picked too soon. I should like to be perfectly ripe 
first.” 

"Well, brother,” said One, "I — I do not quite agree 


io8 


THE FIVE SENSES 


with you. I begin to think that we have made a little 
mistake. There is something besides getting ripe and 
being picked and placed in a basket. In fact,” said he, 
“I knew that there is something better, for I am already 
beginning to enjoy it.” 

“Why, how can that be?” asked the Other. “We get 
the sun and the air and the sap, and so we grow warm 
and ripe. Come! is there anything better? what is 
your secret?” 

“It is not easily told,” said One, mysteriously, “but 
you shall hear something. Yesterday afternoon, as I 
was beginning to dread the night, I heard something on 
the twig, and pretty soon felt it on my stem. It came 
slowly down until it was firmly on me. 

“ ‘Who may you be?’ said I, a little angrily, I must 
confess.” 

“ ‘Do not be disturbed, good sir,’ said a soft voice; ‘I 
am a friend come to visit you. You will be the better 
for me. I am Tid, the worm.’ 

“I had never heard of him before. But he was so soft 
and comfortable in his ways, that I knew at once he was 
a friend. And so I welcomed him.' 

“ ‘It is lonely enough here,’ said I, ‘for my brother 
never can come to see me. My only amusement is 
when the wind blows, and I get a chance to rock back 
and forth, and that is sometimes a little too hard.’ 

“ ‘Just so,’ said Tid. ‘I have been waiting for you 
some time on the grass below, hoping some windy day 


GOOD AND BAD APPLES 


109 


you might fall off and come to see me, for it is very 
hard work climbing so high. I have waited long 
enough, and now I am here, glad to get to my journey’s 
end.’ 

‘'At that, Tid stood on his head, I thought. 

“ ‘What are you doing, Tid?’ said I. 

“ ‘I am going,’ said he, ‘to bring you a new pleasure. 
Have a care; don’t joggle me off.’ 

“Brother, those were his exact words.” 

“Well,” said the Other, “and what is the new 
pleasure? Is it to walk round on you and keep you 
warm?” 

“Better than that,” said One. “Do you know, if you 
could look round here, you wouldn’t see Tid?” 

“Not see him! has he gone then?” 

“Yes, yes,” said One, bursting out with it; “he has 
gone in! he has gone in!” 

“Gone in!” 

“You know I told you I thought Tid was standing 
on his head. So he was. And he began to make a little 
hole in me, not far from the stem, and put his head in, 
and so, deeper and deeper, till, now, my dear brother, 
Tid is entirely inside!” 

“Well,” said the Other, “do you call that pleasant?” 

“Pleasant!” cried One. “Growing ripe is nothing to 
it. Why, there is Tid, burrowing and burrowing, and 
the further in he goes, the easier it is for the sun to get 
inside, you know. But the warmth is not the great 


no 


THE FIVE SENSES 


pleasure; it’s the tickling! the tickling! Tid is tick- 
ling me all the time, and I sit here and laugh.” 

‘'Dear me!” said the Other, “and Tid is doing all 
this for you; and how does he like it?” 

“There! I just hear him talking to himself. Hark!” 

“Well, what does Tid say?” asked the Other. 

“He says, — ‘Munch, munch! I must be getting to- 
ward the core. I have not had such a feast this long 
while. I came just at the right time. The apple and 
I will get ripe together. I shall go on, too, after pick- 
ing-time comes.’ There! do you hear that? You see 
Tid and I are not going to stop when I get ripe.” 

“I don’t know about this,” said the Other. “Why, 
Tid’s hollowing you out — isn’t he? and suppose he 
leaves nothing but your skin?” 

“All I know is,” said One, sharply, “that I get a new 
delight all the while, and don’t put off my pleasure till 
I am picked and put in a basket.” 

The Other was silent, but he kept thinking. And the 
more he thought, the more sure he was that he should 
not wish a visit from Tid. That went on for several 
days, and they agreed less and less whenever they fell 
to talking. 

“Halloo!” cried One, one day, “what do you think? 
I am getting popular. Tid’s friends missed him, and 
now they have come — three more, uncommonly like 
Tid. They have all gone in, too, and each by a differ- 
ent hole.” 


GOOD AND BAD APPLES 


III 


must speak out,” said the Other. ‘‘1 am certain 
that it is all wrong, and I do beseech you, brother, to 
get rid of Tid and his relatives. There is no time to 
lose.” 

‘Indeed!” said One. “I understand you perfectly; if, 
now, Tid had visited you — but we will say no more.” 

And so for several days nothing more was said; 
nothing by them, that is, for Old Hoe at length spoke 
out : — 

“Seems to me strange that those apples do not do any- 
thing to get ripe. They just hang and hang. I could 
hang, but should I be the better for that? Seems to me 
if they were to get down and roll round on the ground, 
they would be doing something, — would be getting on 
with their ripening. There is the gardener; if he were 
to stand still all day, would the garden take care of 
itself?” 

The gardener was at this moment coming up toward 
the tree. Perhaps the twins saw him; at any rate One 
called out with a faint voice, — 

“Brother, a word with you. I feel weak.” 

“Cheer up, cheer up!” said the Other. “We must be 
quite ripe now. We shall soon be pitked and placed in 
a basket.” 

“Ah! you are very well; but as for me, I have been 
growing weaker every day. Tid and his relatives 
have been all through me. And somehow all the pleas- 
ure is gone.” 


II2 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Just here the gardener came up to the tree. 

'‘Well, one is all worm-eaten, but t’other is a rosy, 
ripe apple.” He picked them both and tossed one away. 
He took the other with him. 

"This is the end — eh?” said Old Hoe. "One is thrown 
away and the other is picked.” The apple thrown away 
had rolled quite near Old Hoe, and he now saw it. 

"So this was a bad apple! Why, what had it done? 
It had all the rain and sun as the other had, and it was 
picked. It was not placed in a basket. I don’t under- 
stand.” 

"I understand,” said the apple. "If I had joggled 
Tid off when he first came, as I might have done, all 
would have been well, but now it is all over. Oh dear, 
they are all going about again ! and I have such a head- 
ache.” In a few moments Tid and his relatives had 
put their heads out of their different doors. 

"What’s this?” said Tid. "We were all living 
peaceably.' What have you been doing to shake us 
about so? I nearly had a fit. Aha! I see; friends, we 
are on the ground once more. Come, I like this. I was 
beginning to dread climbing down the tree, and there’s 
not much left here. But we’ll finish what we have be- 
gun,” and, so saying, all crawled in again. 

Old Hoe heard this also, but was too astonished to 
do anything but stare off into the garden. 

Perhaps he would have been more puzzled if he could 
have followed the good apple. This was tied with a 


GOOD AND BAD APPLES 113 

string and hung over the fire, and twirled round and 
round. The apple was a little dizzy at first, but in a 
moment was so delighted that he began to dance. The 
pleasure he had felt when the wind blew him was noth- 
ing to this. Then the heat of the fire began to warm 
him and to creep deliciously through and through; why, 
the brightest sunshine had never made him glow so. 
The little apple laughed and shook with merriment. 
He could not keep in, and actually burst his sides out 
with joy, all the while humming a tune. It was the first 
time he had ever sung in his life, and this was the song 
that Little Apple sang: — 

44 A LL summer long 
I sang no song 
Upon the green-leaved tree: 

But let the sun 

Sing, one by one, 

The summer songs to me. 

'The songs I hid 

My seeds amid. 

Until they eager grew : 

My lips, alas! 

They could not pass, 

To sing themselves anew. 

"Then bright flames leapt 

To where I kept 
My pretty songs in cage: 


114 


THE FIVE SENSES 


They burst the bars 
With glad ha, ha’s! 
And mocked at my old age. 

''Out flew the songs, 
The summer songs; 
And now they sing to me 
The joys I knew 
All summer through. 
Upon the apple tree.” 


FROM HORACE E. SCUDDER 


THE FIVE SENSES 


WHITTLING 

T he Yankee boy, before he’s sent to school, 

Well knows the mysteries of that magic tool, 
The pocket-knife. 

His hoarded cents he gladly gives to get it. 

Then leaves no stone unturned till he can whet it. 

His pocket-knife to the young whittler brings 
A growing knowledge of material things. 

His chestnut whistle and his shingle cart. 

His elder pop-gun, with its hickory rod, 

Its sharp explosion and rebounding wad. 

His corn-stalk fiddle, and the deeper tone 
That murmurs from his pumpkin-stalk trombone, 
Conspire to teach the boy 
Projectiles, music, and the sculptor’s art. 

To these succeed 

His bow, his arrow of a feathered reed. 

His windmill, raised the passing breeze to win. 

His water-wheel, that turns upon a pin. 

Or, if his father lives upon the shore. 

You’ll see his ship, ''beam ends upon the floor,” 

Full rigged, with raking masts, and timbers staunch. 
And waiting, near the wash-tub, for a launch. 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Thus, by his genius and his jack-knife driven 
Ere long he’ll solve you any problem given; 

Make any gimcrack, musical or mute, 

A plough, a couch, an organ, or a flute; 

Make you a locomotive or a clock. 

Cut a canal, or build a floating-dock. 

Or lead forth beauty from a marble block; — 

Make anything, in short, for sea or shore. 

From a child’s rattle to a seventy-four; — 

Make it, said I? — Ay, when he undertakes it. 

He’ll make the thing and the machine that makes it. 

And when the thing is made, — whether it be 
To move on earth, in air, or on the sea; 

Whether on water, o’er the waves to glide. 

Or, upon land to roll, revolve, or slide; 

Whether to whirl or jar, to strike or ring. 

Whether it be a piston or a spring. 

Wheel, pulley, tube sonorous, wood or brass. 

The thing designed shall surely come to pass ; 

For, when his hand’s upon it, you may know 
That there’s go in it, and he’ll make it go. 

FROM JOHN PIERPONT 


THE FIVE SENSES 


1 17 


THE FLAX 

T he Flax stood in blossom; it had pretty little blue 
flowers, delicate as a moth’s wings, and even more 
delicate. The sun shone on the Flax, and the rain clouds 
moistened it. This was just as good for it as it is for 
little children to be washed, and afterward kissed by 
their mother. They become much prettier, and so did the 
Flax. 

“The people say that I stand uncommonly well,” said 
the Flax, “and that I’m fine and long, and shall make an 
excellent piece of linen. How happy I am! I’m cer- 
tainly the happiest of beings. How well off I am ! And 
I may come to something! How the sunshine gladdens, 
and the rain tastes good and refreshes me ! I’m the hap- 
piest of beings !” 

“Yes, yes, yes!” said the Hedge-stake. “You don’t 
know the world, but we do, for we have knots in us.” 
And it creaked out mournfully: 

“Snip-snap-snurre, 

Bassellurre ! 

The song is done.” 

“No, it is not done,” said the Flax. “To-morrow the 
sun will shine, or the rain will refresh us. I feel that 


THE FIVE SENSES 


ii8 

Fm growing. I feel that Fm in blossom: Fm, the hap- 
piest of beings.” 

But one day the people came and took the Flax by the 
head and pulled it up by the root. That hurt. Then 
they laid in water as if they were going to drown it. 
And they put on the fire as if they were going to roast 
it. It was fearful ! 

‘'One can’t always have good times,” said the Flax. 
“One must have hard things happen to him. That’s the 
way to know something.” 

But bad times certainly came. The Flax was mois- 
tened and roasted and broken and hackled. Yes, it did 
not even know what the things were called that were 
done to it. It was put on the spinning-wheel — whirr! 
whirr ! whirr — it made the Flax dizzy. 

“I have been happy!” it thought in all its pain. “I 
must be contented! Contented! Contented! Oh!” 
And it kept on saying that when it was put in the loom, 
and until it became a large beautiful piece of linen. All 
the Flax, to the last stalk, was used in making one piece. 

“This is good fortune! I should never have believed 
it! The Hedge-stake did not know, truly, with its 

'Snip-snap-snurre 
Bassellurre !’ 

The song is not done by any means. Now it’s really 
beginning. If I’ve suffered something. I’ve been made 
into something ! Fm the happiest of all ! How strong 


THE FLAX 


119 

and fine I am, and how white and long! That’s some- 
thing different from being a mere plant. That bears 
flowers, but it gets watered only when it rains. Now, 
the maid turns me over every morning, and I get a 
shower bath from the watering-pot every evening. Yes, 
the clergyman’s wife has even made a speech about me, 
and says I’m the best piece in the whole parish. I can- 
not be happier!” 

The linen was taken into the house, and put under 
the scissors. How they cut and tore it and then pricked 
it with needles! That was not pleasant. But twelve 
pieces of linen were made of it — a whole dozen ! 

''Just look! Something has really been made of me! 
So that was what I was intended for. That’s a real 
blessing. Now I shall be of some use in the world, and 
that’s right, that’s a true pleasure. We’ve been made 
into twelve things, but yet we’re all one and the same. 
We’re just a dozen; how delightful that is!” 

Years rolled on, and now they would hold together 
no longer. 

"It must be over one day,” said each piece. “I should 
gladly have held together a little longer, but I must not 
expect it.” 

They were now torn into fragments. They thought 
it was all over, for they were hacked to shreds, and 
softened and boiled. Yes, they themselves did not know 
all that was done to them. And then they became beau- 
tiful white paper. 


120 


THE FIVE SENSES 


'‘Now, this is a surprise, and a glorious surprise!” 
said the Paper. "Now I’m finer than before, and I shall 
be written on. That is truly good fortune.” 

And really the most beautiful stories and verses were 
written upon it, and only once there came a blot. What 
was written on it made people much more sensible and 
better. There was a great blessing in the words that 
were on this Paper. 

"This is more than I ever thought when I was a little 
blue flower in the fields. How could I imagine that 
I should ever spread joy and knowledge among men? 
I can’t yet understand it myself, but it is really so. 
Each time when I think 'the song is done,’ it begins 
again in a higher and better way. Now I shall certainly 
be sent about to journey through the world, so that all 
people may read me. It must be so, I cannot be mis- 
taken. I’ve splendid thoughts, as many as I had pretty 
flowers in the old times. I’m the happiest of beings.” 

But the Paper was not sent on travels ; it was sent to 
the printer. And everything that was written on it 
was set up in type for a book, or rather for many hundreds 
of books. In this way a far greater number could get 
pleasure from the book than if the one paper had run 
about the world, to be worn out before it had got half- 
way. 

"Yes, that is certainly the wisest way,” thought the 
Written Paper. "I really did not think of that. I shall 
stay at home, and be held in honor, just like an old 


THE FLAX 


I2I 


grandfather. I really am the grandfather of all these 
books. He who wrote all this looked at me ; every word 
flowed from his pen right into me. I am the happiest of 
all.” 

Then the Paper was tied together in a bundle, and 
thrown into a tub that stood in the wash-house. 

^Tt’s well to rest after work,” said the Paper. ‘Tt is 
very right that one should collect one’s thoughts. Now 
I’m able for the first time to think of what is in me, and 
to know one’s self is to improve. What will be done 
with me now? At any rate I shall go forward again; 
I’m always going forward. I’ve found that out.” 

Now, one day all the Paper was taken out and laid by 
the hearth. It was to be burned, for it might not be sold 
to hucksters to be used for covering butter and sugar, 
they said. And all the children in the house stood round 
about. They wanted to see the Paper burn, it flamed up 
so prettily, and afterward you could see many red sparks 
among the ashes. One spark after another faded out 
quick as the wind, and that they called ''seeing the chil- 
dren come out of school,” and the last spark was the 
schoolmaster. One boy thought he had already gone, 
but at the next moment there came another spark. 
"There goes the schoolmaster!” they said. Yes, they all 
knew about it. 

All the old Paper, the whole bundle, was laid upon the 
fire. "Ugh!” it said, and burst out into bright flame. 
Ugh! that was not pleasant, but when the whole was 


122 


THE FIVE SENSES 


wrapped in bright flames these mounted up higher than 
the Flax had ever been able to lift its little blue flowers, 
and glittered as the white linen had never been able to 
glitter. All the written letters turned for a moment 
quite red, and now all the words and thoughts turned 
to flame. 

''Now, Fm mounting straight up to the sun,” said a 
voice in the flame. And it was as if a thousand voices 
said this. The flames mounted up through the chimney. 
Out at the top, floated little tiny beings, as many as 
there had been blossoms on the Flax. They were so deli- 
cate human eyes could not see them. They were lighter 
even than the flames from which they were born. 

When the flame was put out, and there was nothing 
left of the Paper but black ashes, they danced over it 
once more, and where they touched the black mass the 
little red sparks appeared. The "children came out of 
school,” and the schoolmaster was the last of all. That 
was fun! and the children sang over the dead ashes: 

''Snip-snap-snurre, 

Bassellurre ! 

The song is done/^ 

But the little invisible beings all said: "The song is 
never done, that is the best of all. I know it, and there- 
fore Fm the happiest of all.” 

But the children could neither hear that nor under- 
stand it, nor ought they, for children must not know 
everything. hans Christian andersen 


THE FIVE SENSES 


123 


THE MASQUE OF THE FIVE SENSES 


O NCE the Five Senses disputed together which was 
the greatest. Taste said he was because he guarded 
man’s life, and Smell at once claimed he did that. 
Hearing said he kept man informed and charmed, and 
Sight at once claimed he did that. And the others made 
a great hubbub because they weren’t sure what that was. 
As for Touch, he said he was the Court of Last Appeal 
for everything; so he was the greatest of the greatest. 
Well, it went on, and they could not agree. 

At last they decided to put the case before the boys 
and girls. To please the judges the cunning fellows 
gave a sort of showy sight of their doings, and boldly 
called it a Masque. 

Here it follows (Why don’t you boys and girls play 
it?) : 


THE MASQUE OF THE FIVE SENSES 


Players 

Taste 

Smell 

Touch 

Hearing 

Sight 


Tongue 

• Nose 

• Hands 

• Ears 
Eyes 


124 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Herald, Helpers, Father Time, Sharp Need, Harvest, 
Boys and Girls, Children, Poor Children, Little Children, 
Workers, Artists, Circus Players, Etc. (This is the way 
they put them down to make a big showing. There 
wasn’t any Etc., at all.) 

Place; A Room or Open Space. 

THE CONTEST PROCLAIMED 

( Herald enters, wearing a plume in his cap and blowing a trumpet. 
After him come the Five Senses, capering merrily and pinching and 
tickling one another. ) 

(Each of the Five wears a large comic mask. Tongue has a great 
red tongue dangling from his mask. Nose has a long nose standing 
out on his mask. Hands wears huge hollow false hands drawn over 
his own and held up crossed at the back of his head to look like 
horns. Ears has immense pink ears flapping on his mask. Eyes has 
on his big round painted eyes.) 

(They draw up at one side, motionless. The Herald takes up a 
post at the other side.) 

HERALD 

B ehold the Senses Five! 

In contest now engaging 
To win your royal favor 

Right merry warfare waging, 

To prove ’tis Tongue or Nose 
Or 

Mouth or Eye 
Or 

Ear or Hand 

Doth do you greatest service, 

Your minion, to command. 


125 


THE MASQUE OF THE SENSES 

(As each player is named he makes a funny movement. Tongue 
wags his red tongue. Nose squeaks through his long nose. Hands 
waves his huge hands at the audience. Ears turns his head from 
side to side to flap his enormous ears. Eyes puts up his hands to 
his great round painted eyes and cries ‘Teek-a-boo!'’) 

(The Herald goes out.) 

(The players bow to the audience. As they do so, they take off 
the comic masks. They point to the shields outlined on their breasts. 
Here are painted the signs by which they are to be known without 
the masks. Tongue’s is a mother-bird with its beak in the mouth of 
a little bird. Nose’s is a flower. Hands’ is a pair of hands. Ears’ 
is a shell held to an ear. Eyes’ is a large eye.) 

(The players go out.) 

SCENE i: TASTE 

(At a table children are eating bread and butter and drinking milk. 
At one end of the table is a dish of unripe fruit. On a sideboard or 
on a small table are water and glasses.) 

(One greedy child heaps his plate with bread and draws over the 
pitcher of milk. Another child reaches for the unripe fruit. The 
child near it looks at the fruit and shakes his head as much as to say, 
‘‘It is not good to eat.” But the other reaches over and takes it.) 

(Tongue enters.) 


TONGUE 

B y taste I find for you 
What is good and pure 
In meat and milk and bread, 

By which you must be fed.” 

(He fills out a glass of water, lifts it to his lips, “makes a wry 
face,” and sets down the glass quickly.) 


126 


THE FIVE SENSES 


TONGUE 

iCT warn you of rank weed, 

JL Growing where fresh spring 
Of bubbling water doth outburst, 

To quench your burning thirst/’ 

(He catches sight of the greedy child and of the child about to 
eat the unripe fruit.) 

TONGUE 

F or fruit unripe and greediness 
I cause in you distaste; 

The year rolls round, the harvest comes. 

Feed full, but do not waste/’ 

(At this moment Harvest comes in. She wears a wreath of wheat 
heads, and carries sheaves of grain. With her are two boys with 
sickles. After these come little girls holding horns of plenty, filled 
with fruit. Last comes a boy bearing a large pumpkin. The boys 
and girls wear wreaths of autumn leaves, pine cones, and red berries.) 
(The children rise in surprise and delight.) 

(Tongue takes his place near Harvest.) 

TONGUE 

W HEN grapes hang purple on the vine. 
Brown earth bears pumpkins yellow. 

Gold and red the apples shine. 

In autumn sunshine mellow, 

'These delights to you I give. 

And pray Old Time to speed 


127 


THE MASQUE OF THE SENSES 

Your days and nights with happiness, 

And keep from you Sharp Need.’’ 

(Harvest and her train hold the grain and fruit toward the chil- 
dren.) 

(Before Tongue says the last lines he turns toward Father Time. 
Father Time, wearing a flowing snow-white wig and beard, has come 
in and is standing at the back, in the center.) 

(As Tongue speaks to him Father Time comes forward, smiles 
toward the children, then turns upon Sharp Need, a thin, ragged 
fellow, who has crept in and is going toward the children. With a 
gesture of his right arm Father Time bids him be off. Sharp Need 
slinks out.) 

TONGUE 
(to audience) 

IVe done 

The task be yours to tell 

If Tongue, your servant, hath done well.’’ 

(All go out, or the curtain falls.) 

(They had no curtain. They put everything on and off in plain 
sight. They said it impressed the audience — that’s what the Help- 
ers were for — it is a very good way.) 

SCENE 2: SMELL 

(Nose runs on from the side, letting in a savory odor from a 
kitchen out of sight. He comes rubbing his hands and snifflng. He 
speaks in jolly tones.) 

NOSE 

T IS when good things 

Sputter and sizzle in pot. 

And cook’s hand’s in oven 
To see is it hot 


128 


THE FIVE SENSES 


That Tm in highest favor; 

'Tis then Tm needed most, 

You'll find me at my post. 

With each whiff from the kitchen 
I set a small mouth watering 
In every mother's son of you 
And likewise her daughter in. 

(As he speaks, he stops from time to time to peep into the kitchen 
and sniff.) 

(Children come to the feast. They enter from the other side and 
pass through a door at the back into a room out of sight, where 
the feast is being held. The girls are in white. Both boys and girls 
wear wreaths of red and white flowers. They are singing ; the sound 
is heard but not the words.) 

(Nose watches them.) 

NOSE 

tell of feast in hut or hall, 

Where Love is king and welcomes all; 

The rich and poor, the great or small. 

There's room and to spare, next Tom or Paul. 

(As he speaks poor children come in timidly and gaze at the door 
through which the others went. Nose holds the door open for them, 
and as each goes in places on the child’s head a wreath of the same kind 
of red and white flowers.) 

(After closing the door Nose comes forward, smiling.) 

NOSE 

N ose shall please thee more. 

With sweet memories. 

As he tells o'er 
His sweet task. 


THE MASQUE OF THE SENSES 


129 


(He pauses as if thinking) 

His I bring dewy perfume sweet 
From hidden flower in wood, 

Violet white and shy wild rose, 

Lily floating on the pond 
In fragrant solitude. 

I tell of blooming lilac bush, 

Of scented hawthorne tree. 

Of cedar sweet and spicy pine. 

Of perfumed sap from maple bough 
That mounts in spring sunshine; 

Of summer breezes blowing full. 

With breath of orchard fruits. 

Of garden patch, of woodbine shade. 

Of grassmown field, of clover glade. 

Where sweet-breathed cows 
Do graze and gaze 
The summer hours away. 

(Little children dressed as flowers, or in white, wearing wreaths 
and garlands of flowers, trip in. As they move they fill the air with 
the perfume hidden in their clothes. They take hands and dance 
around Nose, singing.) 

LITTLE CHILDREN 

W HEN fairy rings 

You find at morning, 

’Twas the fairies dancing there. 


130 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Lark upspringing, 

Day is dawning, 

Fairies flee as light as air. 


Foot it neatly, 

Foot it fleetly. 

Round and round and round we go; 


Nodding sprightly, 

Tripping lightly. 

Come, dear Nose, away we go. 

(They dance off. Nose capering off with them.) 


SCENE 3: TOUCH 

(At one side of the room or open place are workers at their tasks: 
a Carpenter, a Chaircaner, a Dressmaker, a Shoemaker. Outside are 
seen a Woman Churning and a Blacksmith at his anvil. At the other 
side of the room is a group of Artists: a Woodcarver, a Sculptor, 
a Painter, and a Musician. 

(In the center stands Hands, holding up objects as he speaks.) 

HANDS 
^T tell 

Of hard or soft. 

Of smooth or rough. 

Of curved and pointed true.’’ 

(He turns toward the two groups and goes on.) 


THE MASQUE OF THE SENSES 131 

HANDS 

‘Things of beauty 
And of use 
Behold 

I bring to you/’ 

(The Workers call out one after another, quickly, in a singsong 
chant. ) 

WORKERS 

Carpenter: New tables to make, • 

Chaircaner: Old chairs to mend, 

Dressmaker : Pretty dresses for Lou, 

Shoemaker: Pointed toes for Sue: 

(Blacksmith, sticking in his head) 

BLACKSMITH 

“If your horse must be shod, 

I’m the man for you. 

Stout blacksmith, Hugh, 

No good-for-nothing clod. 

(Keeping time on his anvil, he roars) 

BLACKSMITH 

With a rap, tap, tap! 

And a merry clank, clink! 

When I’m wide awake 
I sleep not a wink; 

On my anvil true 
Now I shape the shoe. 

Good luck to the horse 
And the rider too! 

(The Woman Churning cries out sweetly) 


132 


THE FIVE SENSES 
WOMAN 

T hick cream to sell, 

And butter sweet, 

Salt or fresh. 

In prints so neat. 

(Churning more quickly.) 

Eve thirty head of cows. 

And seven wee calves; 

The poor I always house, 

I’m the richer, by halves. 

(Calling more and more softly.) 

Thick cream to sell. 

And butter sweet. 

Salt or fresh. 

In prints so neat; 

Thick cream to sell 
And butter sweet. 

(As her voice dies away, the Woodcarver, picking up his block of 
wood and his knife, begins to cut.) 

WOODCARVER 

B ird or beast or fish. 

Flower, leaf, or tree. 

Butterfly with gauzy wing. 

Boat with sail set free. 

I’ll carve in wood 
With cunning hand; 

And for thy playful hours 


THE MASQUE OF THE SENSES 


133 


Toyhouses, soldiers, furniture, 

Green trees, and shaded bowers. 

(The Sculptor wets and shapes a mass of clay, or places his chisel 
against a block of marble, hammer in hand.) 

SCULPTOR 

Brave and lovely forms I mould 
In lasting marble white. 

Great Arthur, king, with heart of gold. 

Good Percival, his knight. 

(As the Artists speak some of the workers gape and stare at what 
they do and say, others go near and admire.) 

(The Painter places his easel and takes up palette and brush.) 

PAINTER 

The sunset's crimson glow, I paint. 

The flush of morning sky. 

Colors seven of barred rainbow 
I catch before they die. 

(The Musician touches his lyre.) ' 

MUSICIAN 
I sound 

The new life that comes 
In spring 

From cradle, field, and tree: 

Of prattling babes, 

Of bleating lambs. 

Of peeping birds. 

Of cooing doves — 


134 


THE FIVE SENSES 


The little loves 
Of hearth and wood, 

The tender notes of babyhood — 

All living little things 
I sound — 

A happy note of joy, 

For listening girl and boy. 

(He strikes a bolder note.) 

I sound the deeds of heroes brave 
Who gave their lives the day to save, 

In battle for the right. 

(All go out.) 

SCENE 4: HEARING 

(Ears comes in, with his lips parted and one hand up as if he is 
listening. From outside come sweet bird calls and songs. They 
stop.) 


EARS 



IS by me 
You hear: 


Chirp of sparrow. 

Call of robin. 

Song of lark and nightingale; 

Shout of playmate. 

Fall of water, 

Sound of wind in swelling sail; 


THE MASQUE OF THE SENSES 


135 


Voice of mother 
Telling story, 

Song of poet 
Chanting glory, 

By the winter fire; 

Peal of thunder. 

Notes of music, 

Hark the singing choir. 
(He stops to listen.) 

(In the distance, out of sight, children sing:) 

CHILDREN 

’Twas He who made 
And feeds and clothes me, 
Day and night 
His love enfolds me. 

(He goes on.) 

EARS 

‘'Voices sweet of little children. 
Humming insect, cooing dove. 

All the myriad sounds of nature, 
Telling Wondrous Love.” 

"(The children’s song is heard again, more softly.) 

(Ears goes out.) 


136 


THE FIVE SENSES 


SCENE 5: SIGHT 


(Eyes runs in, gay and smiling.) 

Eyes 


The world would be 
A dark, dark place 

Were I! ! ! (Points to himself proudly.) 
To close my (He winks.) 

Eye. 


(He then tells what he shows, looking and acting as if he sees the 
sights then and there.) 

I show you shops crammed full of toys, 

A joyous sight to see; 


Behold! a Punch and Judy show! 


(Squeaks a bit of the 
puppet play.) 


A hoy! a sail at sea! 


(Puts hands to mouth 
and calls : A hoy ! A 
hoy!) 


Sometimes a field of tasseled corn, 
All blowing in the breeze; 

A fountain changing in the light. 
Autumn-reddened trees; 


Shadow pictures on the wall. 
Of rabbit, duck, or parrot; 


(Shows with. hand.) 


Cats on back fence in a squall. 
Old guns in the garret; 


137 


THE MASQUE OF THE SENSES 

Foreign lands where other children 
Send kites flying high in air, 

Or play reindeer 'stead of horses, 

Shout as you do, free from care; 

The stars at night; the break of day. 

The sun high up at noon. 

The gold and purple in the west 
At sunset; lo, the moon! 

(Music and cheering heard outside. Eyes runs to the door to see 
what’s coming.) 

EYES 

Here's a" sight to cure sore eyes, 

To make bad boys play truant, 

The good get leave to stay at home, 

And all the girls pursue it. 

(A circus parade comes into view and passes. In it are not many 
more than those to be named by Eyes. They pass and re-pass several 
times. The animals are of course children covered with false animals’ 
heads and skins.) 

EYES 

Behold! the circus come to town. 

The beauteous lady rider. 

Elephants and tall giraffes. 

Harlequin, the funny clown — 

I would fence cracks were wider. 

(Eyes goes off saying the last line.) 

THE CHILDREN'S DECISION 

(The Five Senses, again wearing the comic masks, now come rush- 
ing in. They tickle, pinch, and push one another to get first.) 


138 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE FIVE SENSES 

Eyes: Surely Tm your best servant? 

Mouth: No, I! 

Hands: HI! 

Ears: No, I. 

Nose (tittering) : Te, he, he, your worships, 
(squeaks) : His me. 

AUDIENCE 
(One speaks) 

Less noise, good sirs, 

Or you won't hear 
Who's best. 

Though plain I'll tell 
And clear. 

(As each of the Five is named he starts forward eagerly, well 
pleased. Then as he hears what is said he looks and acts ridiculously 
sad or glad. At the same time the others look and act ridiculously 
hopeful or envious. ) 

AUDIENCE 

Nose — is not best. 

Mouth — is not worst. 

Ears — nor Eyes — not last. 

Hands — are not first : 

But the very best of you — is — 

Every man Jack of you. 

If you stick together 
In fair and fine weather, — 

The Senses Five. 


THE MASQUE OF THE SENSES 139 

(At this the Five join hands and caper about merrily, singing:) 
THE FIVE SENSES 

We’ll stick together 

In fair or foul weather 

For the very best of us, 

Nose — . (He squeaks) 

Mouth — . (He wags his tongue) 

Eyes — (He cries "Teek-a-bool”) 

Ears — (He flaps his ears.) 

Hands — (He waves to the audience.) 

Is all of us together, 

The Senses Five. 

(They bow low and caper off.) 

ANGELA M. KEYES 














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THE FIVE SENSES 


143 


BABES IN THE WOOD 

M y dears, do you know, 

How a long time ago. 

Two poor little children 
Whose names I donT know. 

Were stolen away 
On a fine summer’s day. 

And left in a wood. 

As I’ve heard people say. 

And when it was night. 

So sad was their plight. 

The sun it went down. 

And the moon gave no light ! 

They sobb’d and they sigh’d 
And bitterly cried. 

And the poor little things. 
They lay down and died. 

And when they were dead. 

The robins so red 

Brought strawberry leaves, 
And over them spread; 

And all the day long. 

They sang them this song, — 

Poor babes in the wood ! 


144 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Poor babes in the wood ! 

And don’t you remember 
The babes in the wood ? 

Old story done into verse 


THE FIVE SENSES 


145 


THE TABLE AND THE CHAIR 

S AID the Table to the Chair, 

“You can hardly be aware 
How I suffer from the heat 
And from chilblains on my feet. 

If we took a little walk, 

We might have a little talk; 

Pray let us take the air,’' 

Said the Table to the Chair. 

Said the Chair unto the Table, 

“Now, you know we are not able: 

How foolishly you talk, 

When you know we cannot walkT 
Said the Table with a sigh, 

“It can do no harm to try. 

I’ve as many legs as you: 

Why can’t we walk on two?” 

So they both went slowly down, 

And walked about the town 
With a cheerful bumpy sound 
As they toddled round and round; 
And all the people cried, 

As they hastened to their side, 

“See! the Table and the Chair 
Have come out to take the air !” 


146 


THE FIVE SENSES 


But in going down an alley, 

To a castle in a valley, 

They completely lost their way, 

And wandered all the day; 

Till, to see them safely back. 

They paid a Ducky-quack, 

And a Beetle, and a Mouse 
Who took them to their house. 

Then they whispered to each other, 

''O delightful little brother. 

What a lovely walk we’ve taken! 

Let us dine on beans and bacon.” 

So the Ducky and the leetle 
Browny-Mousy and the Beetle 
Dined, and danced upon their heads 
Till they toddled to their beds. 

EDWARD LEAR 


THE FIVE SENSES 


147 


LOWER THAN THE BEASTS 

TN the reign of a certain king there lived a cruel 
^ seneschal, the keeper of the castle. One day while 
he was walking in the forest near the king’s palace he 
fell into a deep pit covered over with leaves. He him- 
self had ordered this pit dug to entrap the beasts. 
In great terror he found himself in the midst of a lion, 
a monkey, and a serpent. He cried out lustily for help. 
The noise awoke a poor man named Guido, who had 
brought his ass into the forest to load it with firewood 
for sale. 

“Good friend,” cried the seneschal, who had heard 
Guido shout out, ‘Who calls?’ “help me out and I will 
make thee rich for life.” 

“The sun is high,” answered Guido, “and my task is 
not yet done. I am a poor man and I get my living by 
selling faggots. If I do not gather and sell them every 
day my wife and I must starve.” 

But the seneschal begged so piteously and promised 
him riches so loudly that Guido left the faggots and 
went back quickly for a long stout cord. 

This he let down into the pit and bade the seneschal 
bind it round his waist. Before the man could do so 


148 


THE FIVE SENSES 


the lion leaped forward and seizing the rope was drawn 
up, and in high glee to find himself free he made off into 
the wood. Guido let down the rope a second time. 
This time the monkey vaulted over the man’s head and 
shook the cord. Up he too went into light and liberty, 
and away he capered to his old haunts in the cocoanut 
trees. Guido sent the rope down a third time. The 
lithe serpent twined himself about it and was drawn up, 
and it did not take him long to disappear into the grass. 

''O my good friend,” cried the seneschal, beseechingly, 
‘The beasts are all gone now, draw me up quickly, I pray 
thee.” Guido did so, and afterward with such labor 
that the sweat poured from his forehead, drew up the 
man’s horse; the seneschal had been riding when he fell 
into the pit. 

As the day was now spent, Guido went home without 
any money from the sale of faggots. His wife had 
very little to buy bread, but when Guido told her of 
the promised riches her face brightened. “Be sure I shall 
wake thee early, husband,” she cried; “thou must be at 
the palace at cockcrow.” 

But lo ! and behold ! when Guido arrived at the palace 
the seneschal declared he did not know him, and ordered 
him to be whipped out of the gate for daring to ask for 
money for something he had not done. The porter beat 
Guido so severely that the poor man fell by the roadside 
half dead. When Guido’s wife heard of this she 
saddled their ass and took her husband home to nurse 


LOWER THAN THE BEASTS 


149 


him. His sickness lasted so long that the wife was at 
her wits’ ends to keep the roof over their head. And at 
the first moment that he could, the husband went back 
to his faggot gathering in the woods. 

One morning toward winter while Guido was gather- 
ing the faggots he saw afar off ten asses laden with packs, 
coming toward him. A lion followed close at the heels 
of the asses. When they came up to him Guido 
recognized the lion; it was the very one he had drawn 
up from the pit. 

The lion signed to Guido with his foot to take the 
loaded asses and go home. Guido did and the lion fol- 
lowed. At the door of Guido’s poor hut the noble lion 
fawned upon him, licking his face and hands; then wag- 
ging his tail as if in triumph he stalked back into the 
woods. Guido, who would rather be poor than dis- 
honest, had it made known in the churches that any who 
had lost asses should come to him. No one came. So 
he opened the packs and to his great joy found they were 
full of money. 

The next day when Guido went to the forest he forgot 
to take something to cleave the wood. Looking about 
he saw in a tree nearby the monkey he had drawn up 
from the pit. With teeth and nails the monkey split the 
wood and then helped Guido to load the asses. 

The very next day as Guido sat down on the stump of 
a tree in the forest to sharpen his axe he made out in 
the grass the serpent that had come up from the pit. In 


THE FIVE SENSES 


150 

its mouth it carried a curious stone of three colors, white, 
black, and red. This it let fall into Guido’s lap and 
glided off. 

As you shall hear, it was a magical stone. It seems 
that it was so much talked about that the king heard of 
it and asked to see it. Guido took it at once to the pal- 
ace and the king was so much struck with its uncommon 
shape and luster that he bought it at the large price 
of three hundred florins. ‘'Where, my good man,” said 
he, “did you get this beautiful stone?” 

Guido told him the whole story from the beginning: 
the seneschal’s false promise, the beating he himself suf- 
fered, and the gratitude of the lion, the monkey, and the 
serpent. 

The king sent straightway for the seneschal. “What 
is this I hear of thee?” he asked. 

The seneschal had not a word to say for himself. 

“Ungrateful wretch,” cried the king, “thou hast been 
guilty of the blackest sin. Guido freed thee from fright- 
ful danger and for this thou nearly killed him. Thou 
art lower than the beasts. They, whom he had not set 
out to serve, have shown gratitude. But thou hast re- 
turned evil for good. I will take from thee thy office. 
Guido shall be seneschal in thy stead. And thou shalt 
be whipped from the gate.” 

So it was that riches and honor came to Guido. 

Old tale 


THE FIVE SENSES 


I 


WINDY NIGHTS 

W HENEVER the moon and stars are set, 
Whenever the wind is high, 

All night long in the dark and wet, 

A man goes riding by, 

Late at night when the fires are out. 

Why does he gallop and gallop about? 

Whenever the trees are crying aloud. 

And ships are tossed at sea. 

By, on the highway, low and loud. 

By at the gallop goes he. 

By at the gallop he goes, and then 
By he comes back at the gallop again. 

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 


152 


THE FIVE SENSES 


A BOY’S SONG 

W HERE the pools are bright and deep, 
Where the gray trout lies asleep, 

Up the river and o’er the lea. 

That’s the way for Billy and me. 

Where the blackbird sings the latest. 

Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest. 
Where the nestlings chirp and flee. 

That’s the way for Billy and me. 

Where the mowers mow the cleanest, 
Where the hay lies thick and greenest. 
There to trace the homeward bee. 

That’s the way for Billy and me. 

Where the hazel bank is steepest. 

Where the shadow falls the deepest. 

Where the clustering nuts fall free. 

That’s the way for Billy and me. 

Why the boys should drive away 
Little sweet maidens from the play, 

Or love to banter and fight so well, 

That’s the thing I never could tell. 


A BOY’S SONG 


153 


But this I know, I love to play, 

Through the meadow, among the hay; 

Up the water and o’er the lea. 

That’s the way for Billy and me. 

JAMES HOGG 


154 


THE FIVE SENSES 


WHAT FRANK HEARD 

O NE day Frank was standing stock still in the middle 
of a field. The only movement he made was to 
turn his head this way and that and hold his ear down. 
He did it so long that at last the Scarecrow began to 
notice it. 

‘'What are you at?” said the Scarecrow. 

“Sh!” said Frank, ‘Tm training to be a Naturalist 
when I grow up — that’s a man who knows all about na- 
ture, as, of course, you know.” 

‘T didn’t,” said the Scarecrow, “but I do now.” 

“It takes a great deal of ear-training and eye-training 
to be a Naturalist. I’m doing ear- training now. I’m 
training my ears to hear the voices of the field insects. 
Listen!” 

The Scarecrow listened, though he was made only to 
be looked at. 

“At this minute it is easy to make out two voices. 
Do you hear a loud buzzing sound that goes like 
this?” Frank made the sound pretty well. “The 
books,” said Frank as if he were a learned man, “tell 
me that’s the voice of the locust. And that cheery chirp, 
you hear at the same time, but better if you stop lis- 


WHAT FRANK HEARD 


155 


tening to the buzz, is the voice of the cricket. Yester- 
day,” cried Frank, forgetting to listen as he thought of 
it, ''one of the little black fellows hopped straight into 
our hall. Perhaps he was looking to see where the 
winter fire will be. Autumn is almost here now, you 
know, and after that will come winter. And Pve read in 
stories where people heard crickets chirp as they sat by 
the winter fire.” 

"What a great deal you know from books,” said the 
Scarecrow. "And how clever of you to be learning 
out of school, too!” 

"Oh, that’s the very best way to learn to be a Natu- 
ralist. But I know only a little. What are two sounds 
out of this whole fieldful! I’ve read that Naturalists 
hear hundreds of voices in every field and swamp and 
hedge.” 

"Well, everything must have a beginning,” said the 
Scarecrow. "I often hear the farmer say to his wife, 
Maria, when she wants him to plant the whole hillside, 
'A small beginning makes a good ending.’ ” 

"Yes,” said Frank, brightening. "Mother often says, 
'Great oaks from little acorns grow.’ ” 

"As for the swamps,” said the Scarecrow, hopefully, 
"you know a bull-frog’s voice, don’t you?” 

The Scarecrow tried to show how it goes, though he 
was made only to look at. 

"Oh, yes,” cried Frank, beating him at it at once. 
"And to go back to the insects — I can hear the katydid, 


THE FIVE SENSES 


156 

as darkness comes on. Tve noticed that I can hear better 
when Fm not seeing also.’’ 

‘There may be something in that,” said the Scare- 
crow, with a thoughtful air, for him. 

“But,” said Frank, “as I was telling father yesterday, 
Fm getting on faster in hearing bird language. I know 
the voices of sparrows, robins, blackbirds — ” 

“Do you know that rogue who can mock the other birds 
and cheat you into thinking you hear them,” broke in the 
Scarecrow. “Fve heard the farmer tell Maria of him. 
She laughs till the fat on her shakes.” 

“Fve read of him,” said Frank. “I haven’t met him 
yet. Fm watching day and night for him.” 

“You’ll catch him at it yet,” said the Scarecrow. 
“But go on; I was a rude fellow to break in.” 

Frank forgot the exact place where he had stopped. 
Besides he had thought of something more interesting. 

“Just at present Fm giving all my attention to robin 
language,” said he. “It’s astonishing,” he shouted so 
loudly that the Scarecrow felt it must be! “It’s aston- 
ishing how much robins can say. Why, the robins in 
that old apple tree behind our house can say anything 
with their voices. All they do is to make them high or 
low, or quick or slow, or harsh or soft, or — ” 

“Is it possible!” said the Scarecrow, breathlessly. 

“Yes,” said Frank, “and of course I know the differ- 
ence between calls and songs.” 

“The songs are longer,” said the Scarecrow. 


WHAT FRANK HEARD 


157 


‘‘Oh, yes, but there’s more than that. I hear it but 
I can’t tell it yet. I got up early one morning — ” 

“I’m up early every morning,” said the Scarecrow, 
“that’s the time I must be on the watch, though Maria 
says she thinks I should let the crows take a little corn. 
They do more good than harm, she says. I won’t go 
into that now.” 

“I think Maria must be right,” said Frank, “but as 
I was going to tell you, I got up early one morning in 
June, just as the robin in our apple tree was beginning 
a song. First, it was only a low warble. Then as the 
morning got lightsome the warble got fuller and louder 
and freer, you know,” said Frank, “until it was like 
joy. 

“And what sweet evening songs he can sing! They 
aren’t so ringing, I might call it,” said Frank, trying 
to say just what he meant; “they are softer and lower. 
Perhaps birds are like us — and the hills look as if they 
are too— more quiet and sweet-feeling at evening. 
I’ve heard him sing other songs, too, before and after 
rain. Father says I’m really getting on in hearing bird 
language.” 

“Is it as much fun as hearing German?” asked the 
Scarecrow. “The farmer speaks in German sometimes to 
Maria. She’s German. He can’t say all he wants to.” 

“Fun!” cried Frank, “I’m enjoying myself to my ear 
tips. I’ve got my ears so sharp now they can tell way 
up in my own room when the old birds are scolding the 


^158 


THE FIVE SENSES 


cat away from the young birds. At first I used to put 
my head out of the window every time to make sure. 
I know a Naturalist Lady and a Naturalist Man who 
can tell when robins are coaxing the young ones to fly or 
calling other robins to come to them or when they’re in 
a temper. I’ve plenty yet to learn,” said Frank, '‘but 
you may believe it is fun. 

'T must be going now. Good night. Scarecrow, I like 
talking to you.” 

“Good night,” said the Scarecrow, “let me know how 
the ear-training gets on.” 

“Yes,” said Frank, “and when I’m a Naturalist I 
suppose you’ll be a grownup Scarecrow, so we’ll keep 
together.” 

“There’s no telling about me,” said the Scarecrow. 
“But we’ll have many a long talk before that, on your 
favorite language.” 

“That we will,” said Frank. And they parted. 

ANGELA M. KEYES 


. THE FIVE SENSES 


159 


TO-MORROW 

I HEARD a puzzled little girl, 

Thus to her mother say: 

‘^How slow to-morrow is, mamma! 

When comes to-morrow, prayP^ 

^When you have slept and waked, my child. 
Then will to-morrow be/^ 

‘‘So you have said, mamma, yet ne’er 
To-morrow came to me. 

“Eve slept and waked, oft and again. 

And still it was to-day. 

I’ve watched and watched for to-morrow, 
But it always flew away. 

“You said that when to-morrow came, 

’Twould come so bright and gay; 

I woke and thought — sure now ’tis here! 
But still it was to-day!” 


r 


i6o 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE CHILDREN’S FESTIVAL 

C4/^NCE in a far off time yet to be,” said the Moon, 
‘1 saw a wonderful sight. North, East, South, 
and West came crowds of little boys and girls. 

''They came in processions and bands and troops and 
groups. They came in double file and single file, in 
dozens, scores, and hundreds. They came walking, run- 
ning, leaping, laughing, chattering, singing. 

"All kinds came. There were little yellow, slant- 
eyed Chinese children with long pig tails flying. Oh 
yes; and two of them carried a child princess in a 
palanquin. At least she was as rich as a princess any- 
way,” said the Moon. "I know it by the sparkle of the 
jewels in the silver nail shields she wore over her long 
finger nails. I caught a glimpse too of a tiny little red 
foot smaller than poor Chinese children’s feet. But I 
didn’t catch a wince of pain now, for she was coming 
as well as the poor children. There were small red 
Indians with flutes and drums and rattles. Some of the 
boys had sweet grass wound about their heads, and the 
girls had bright beads twined in their long black hair. 
The glass beads as well as the jewels shone in my light,” 
said the Moon. 

"There were dark skinned little Eskimos in fur from 


THE CHILDREN’S FESTIVAL i6i 

top to toe as if they were roly poly polar bears. There 
were white children from all parts of Europe and Amer- 
ica. Some were tall, fair haired ones from Norway. 
Some were broad chested English. Some were gray- 
eyed, red-cheeked Irish. Some were straight-backed, 
quick Americans. Some were dark-skinned Italians. 
Some were French children, dainty ones from Paris in 
high heels, and sturdy ones from Brittany in wooden 
sabots and white caps. And there were ever so many 
more. There were brown Malays, and fat black Picka- 
ninnies rolling the whites of their eyes and laughing like 
gleaming sunshine. 

With them came things to eat and toys and animals 
and things to do. It was wonderful. And they all, 
themselves and whatever came with them, poured in at 
the same gate. It was a sight worth seeing. 

‘‘But the most wonderful part of it all was the sound, 
and how little it mattered to the children. Such a hub- 
bub I never heard. It was made of all the languages 
at once. How the children were to make one another 
out puzzled me,” said the Moon, “and Pve learned a 
thing or two in my time. 

“Bless you, it didn’t puzzle the children. Children 
are naturally clever. They found the way to one an- 
other in a twinkling. What they couldn’t say, they did. 
And that is far more satisfactory.” 

“But what brought them together?” say you. 

“As I heard later,” said the Moon, “they were having 


THE FIVE SENSES 


162 

a Children’s Festival at the most central place, The 
Field of Play. 

‘‘Now, if you stop me to ask questions about how they 
knew the Festival was to be held and when and where, 
I cannot get on with what I am telling. Those who 
had charge of it put their heads together and said, ‘Tt 
is very simple. Everyone will be at the right place at 
the right time if everyone says to everyone else, ‘Come 
this very minute to the Children’s Festival to be held 
at The Field of Play.’ But, on second thought, they 
saw this plan would not do. So they changed it. They 
sent out four carrier pigeons with cards tied around their 
necks: one to the North, one to the East, one to the 
West, and one to the South. The cards told in pictures 
the time and place of the Festival. So, as you might 
have thought out, it was very easy indeed to bring the 
children together. 

“Well, such a time as they had,” cried the Moon, 
“and, if you’ll let me say it, how I enjoyed it. It was 
like being at a theater or a panorama. The clouds 
passing across my face were the curtains or the time be- 
tween views. I looked forth now at this scene, now at 
that, and always at each as part of the whole. I shall 
never forget that. 

“The Festival began at once, and everyone did what 
he most wanted to do. I’ll say for him, too,” said the 
Moon, “that everyone was pretty well-mannered. And 
all were agreed on the order of the program. 


THE CHILDREN’S FESTIVAL 


163 

“The very first thing was to prepare the feast. Those 
who could cook best ran off at once to do this. How 
they swarmed together as they baked, roasted, and 
boiled steaming potfuls, panfuls, dishfuls! And how 
well they agreed. Whether they chattered it in Chinese 
or in High German or in French or in Darky English, 
they all put in plenty of oil and sugar to make things 
sweet and juicy. 

“Yum, yum!” said the round-faced Moon, “it makes 
my mouth water to think of what those youngsters ate 
when the cooks clapped their hands to say the feast was 
ready. Even if the French children had not been taught 
it is polite to eat all you are given, they wouldn’t have 
left a crumb. 

“Well, the scene I saw after the feast was quieter,” 
said the Moon, “but it was even more interesting. 
While some cleared away the feast, others sat together 
on the ground making things. As you might guess, the 
little ones made houses and toys. Little Zulus drew the 
most perfect circles and built play huts of mud, just like 
the real huts they live in. Some made toy cows of wood 
and mud. Near the Zulus were small Mexican girls 
making huts, a little different in shape, out of clay. And 
some made cattle pens and oxen. Small Mexican boys 
were turning clay into cunning Mexican mules and men 
and women, that looked alive. Side by side were pretty 
little Indian girls stringing wampum, and little girls 
from Brittany making houses and carts and dolls out of 


164 


THE FIVE SENSES 


shells and fish bones, while their brothers cut out small 
shoes from pieces of wood. 

‘'And such lace as the girls from far pff India made, 
and from Ireland, and from Norway. And the Moorish 
boys could knit! And how everyone admired the pic- 
tures of hunts, Indian girls were painting on rugs of 
doe skin. 

‘T was all eyes,” said the Moon. 

“Well, such play as they had after that. Arab boys 
on beautiful horses rode by at breathless speed ! Egyp- 
tian boys with donkeys followed, crying, ‘Out of the 
way! Out of the way!’ as if they were selling fruit 
at home. After them came boys and girls from Sicily 
seated in carts drawn by mules. The mules were gay 
with bits of ribbon and bunches of flowers and the carts 
were gay with pictures painted on the four sides. Some 
of the pictures were Hke those the little Sicilians see in 
their churches. And some showed the great French gen- 
eral crossing the Alps, or the brave queen sucking the 
poison from the king’s arm. Small white boys played 
horse everywhere and small Eskimos played reindeer. 
Shouts of fun filled the air! 

“I saw children of all colors watching a Punch and 
Judy show and screaming with laughter at it! I saw 
Malay boys taking off the most wonderful cat’s cradles 
and boys from Hawaii walking stilts fast at a dizzy 
height. There was a pony race, Mexicans and Indians. 


THE CHILDREN’S FESTIVAL 


165 

Whew ! how they went ! Who won ? They came in to- 
gether. American boys played baseball and Eskimo 
boys brought out bats of walrus bone. Hawaiian boys 
caught on sticks balls made of leaves tied with grasses, 
or threw up four or five balls, one after another, and 
kept all going. 

‘‘But the last scene I saw,” said the Moon, “was the 
best of all. And that’s as it should be at a festival. I 
shall never forget it. Pickaninnies began mocking black- 
birds, robins, thrushes, and whip-poor-wills. The little 
black fellows answered one another as if they were the 
very birds themselves. The Malays took it up and gave 
the bird calls of their land. And the Italians followed 
them. It was like what bird land would be if all the 
birds should come together at the same time. 

“After that the Pickaninnies got out their banjos. 
The Indians brought out their flutes and drums and 
rattles. And any one else pulled out anything else he 
had with him. And though at home a few never 
dance, everybody danced with himself or with everybody 
else. 

“By this time,” said the Moon, “the night was over. 
A little Mexican boy caught the first peep of sunrise, 
and began a hymn of praise to God. All the Mexican 
children took it up, and soon all the other children were 
singing. 

“Just as I had to go, to give place to the sun,” said 


i66 THE FIVE SENSES 

the Moon, ''the children began to stream out the gate 
of the Field of Play, hand in hand. Home they went. 
North, East, South and West. But I shall never forget 
how well they got on together and how little difference 
strange languages made to them.” 


ANGELA M. KEYES 


THE FIVE SENSES 


167 


DEAF AND DUMB 

H e lies on the grass, looking up to the sky; 

Blue butterflies pass like a breath or a sigh, 

The shy little hare runs confidingly near. 

And wise rabbits stare with inquiry, not fear: 

Gay squirrels have found him and made him their choice; 
All creatures flock round him, and seem to rejoice. 

Wild ladybirds leap on his cheek fresh and fair. 

Young partridges creep, nestling under his hair. 

Brown honey-bees drop something sweet on his lips. 

Rash grasshoppers hop on his round finger-tips. 

Birds hover above him with musical call; 

All things seem to love him, and he loves them all. 

Is nothing afraid of the boy lying there? 

Would all nature aid if he wanted its care? 

Things timid and wild with soft eagerness come. 

Ah, poor little child! — he is deaf — he is dumb. 

But what can have brought them? but how can they know? 
What instinct has taught them to cherish him so? 

Since first he could walk they have served him like this. 
His lips could not talk, but they found they could kiss. 
They made him a court, and they crowned him a king; 

Ah, who could have thought of so lovely a thing? 

They found him so pretty, they gave him their hearts, 

And some divine pity has taught them their parts! 


i68 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE NIGHTINGALE 

I N China, you must know, the Emperor is a Chinaman, 
and all about him are Chinamen too. It happened 
a good many years ago, but that’s just why it’s worth 
while to hear the story, before it is forgotten. 

The Emperor’s palace was the most splendid in the 
world. It was all made of porcelain, very costly, but so 
delicate and brittle that you had to take care how you 
touched it. In the garden were the most wonderful 
flowers, and to some of them silver tinkling bells were 
tied, so nobody might pass by without noticing them. 
Yes, everything in the Emperor’s garden was well done. 
And the garden went so far that the gardener himself 
did not know where the end was. If a man went on 
and on, he came into a glorious forest with high trees. 
And the forest went straight down to the sea, where 
ships could sail beneath the branches of the trees. And 
in the trees lived a Nightingale, which sang so splen- 
didly that even the busy Fisherman, when he went out 
at night to throw his nets, stopped to hear it. 

“How beautiful that is!” he said; but he had to cast 
his nets, and so he forgot the bird. But when the next 
night the bird sang again, and the Fisherman heard it, 
he said again, “How beautiful that is!” 


THE NIGHTINGALE 


169 


From all the countries of the world travellers came 
to the city of the Emperor and admired it, and the pal- 
ace, and the garden. But when they heard the Nightin- 
gale, they said, “That is the best of all!” 

And the travellers told of it when they went home. 
And the learned men wrote many books about the town, 
the palace, and the garden. They did not forget the 
Nightingale; that was placed highest of all. Those 
who were poets wrote poems about the Nightingale that 
sang in the wood by the deep lake. 

The books went through all the world, so a few of 
them once came to the Emperor. He sat in his golden 
chair, and read, and read. Every moment he nodded 
his head, for it pleased him to read of the fine things 
that were said about the city, the palace, and the garden. 
“But the Nightingale is the best of all!” — it stood writ- 
ten there. 

“What’s that,” exclaimed the Emperor, “the Night- 
ingale! I don’t know the Nightingale at all! Is there 
such a bird in my empire, and even in my garden*? I’ve 
never heard of that. To think that I should have to 
learn such a thing for the first time from books!” 

And hereupon he called his Cavalier. This Cavalier 
was so grand that if any one lower in rank than him- 
self dared to speak to him, or to ask him any question, he 
answered nothing but "T!” — and that meant nothing. 

“There is said to be a wonderful bird here called a 
Nightingale!” said the Emperor. “They say it is the 


170 


THE FIVE SENSES 


best thing in all my great empire. Why have I never 
heard anything about itf 

‘T have never heard it named,” replied the Cavalier. 
'Tt has never been at court.” 

'T command that it shall be there this evening, and 
sing before me,” said the Emperor. '‘All the world 
knows what I have, yet I do not know it myself!” 

'T will seek for it,” said the Cavalier. "I will surely 
find it.” 

But where was it to be found? The Cavalier ran up 
and down all the staircases, through halls and passages, 
but no one among all those whom he met had heard 
talk of the Nightingale. The Cavalier ran back to the 
Emperor, and said that it must be a story made up by 
the writers of books. 

"Your Imperial Majesty cannot believe how much that 
is written is made up.” 

"But the book in which I read this,” said the Emperor, 
"was sent to me by the high and mighty Emperor of 
Japan, and therefore it cannot be a lie. I will hear the 
Nightingale ! It must be here this evening ! It has won 
my favor. If it does not come, all the court shall be 
trampled upon after the court has supped!” 

"Tsing-pe!” said the Cavalier. And again he ran up 
and down all the staircases, and through all the halls 
and corridors. And half the court ran with him, for the 
courtiers did not like being trampled upon. 


THE NIGHTINGALE 


171 

At last they met with a poor little girl in the kitchen, 
who said, — 

‘‘The Nightingale? I know it well; yes, it can sing 
gloriously. Every evening I get leave to carry my 
poor sick mother the scraps from the table. She lives 
down by the strand, and when I am coming back tired, 
and rest in the wood, then I hear the Nightingale sing. 
And then the water comes into my eyes, and it is just as 
if my mother kissed me !” 

“Little Kitchen Girl,” said the Cavalier, “I will get 
you a place in the kitchen, with leave to see the Em- 
peror dine, if you will lead us to the Nightingale, for it 
must be at court this evening.” 

So they all set out for the wood where the Nightingale 
used to sing. Half the court went. When they were 
half way a cow began to low. 

“O!” cried the court pages, “now we have it! That 
shows a wonderful power in so small a creature! I 
have certainly heard it before.” 

‘No, those are cows lowing!” said the little 
Kitchen Girl. “We are a long way from ^he place yet.” 

Now the frogs began to croak in the marsh. 

“Glorious!” said the Chinese Court Preacher. “Now 
I hear it — it sounds just like little church bells.” 

“No, those are frogs!” said the little Kitchen Maid. 
“But now I think we shall soon hear it.” 

And then the Nightingale began to sing. 


172 


THE FIVE SENSES 


‘'That is it!” exclaimed the little girl. “Listen, lis- 
ten! and yonder it sits.” 

She pointed to a little gray bird up in the boughs. 

“Is it possible?” cried the Cavalier. “I should never 
have thought it looked like that! How plain it looks! 
It must certainly have lost its color with fright at see- 
ing such grand people around.” 

“Little Nightingale!” called the little Kitchen Maid, 
“our gracious Emperor wishes you to sing before him.” 

“With the greatest pleasure,” replied the Nightin- 
gale, and began to sing most delightfully. 

“It sounds just like glass bells!” said the Cavalier. 
“And look at its little throat, how it’s working! It’s 
wonderful that we should never have heard it before. 
That bird will be a success at court.” 

“Shall I sing once more before the Emperor?” asked 
the Nightingale, for it thought the Emperor was 
present. 

“My excellent little Nightingale,” said the Cavalier, 
“I have great pleasure in inviting you to a court festival 
this evening, when you shall charm his Majesty with 
your beautiful singing.” 

“My song sounds best in the greenwood!” replied the 
Nightingale. Yet it came willingly when it heard the 
Emperor wished it. 

The palace was made ready for the festival. The 
walls and the flooring, which were of porcelain, gleamed 
in the rays of thousands of golden lamps. The most 


THE NIGHTINGALE 


173 


gorgeous flowers, which could ring most clearly, were 
placed in the passages. There was a running to and fro, 
and a thorough draught, and all the bells rang so loudly 
that you could not hear yourself speak. 

In the midst of the great hall, where the Emperor 
sat, a golden perch had been placed, on which the 
Nightingale was to sit. The whole court was there, 
and the little Cook Maid had leave to stand behind the 
door, as she had now the title of a court cook. All were 
in full dress, and all looked at the little gray bird, to 
which the Emperor nodded. 

The Nightingale sang so gloriously that the tears 
came into the Emperor’s eyes, and ran down over his 
cheeks. And then the Nightingale sang still more 
sweetly. That went straight to the heart. The Em- 
peror was so much pleased that he said the Nightingale 
should have his golden slipper to wear around its neck. 
But the Nightingale said no, with thanks. 

'T have seen tears in the Emperor s eyes — that is the 
real gold to me. An emperor’s tears have power. I 
am rewarded enough!” And then it sang again with 
a sweet, glorious voice. 

‘That’s the most amiable bird I ever saw!” said the 
ladies who stood round about. And they took water 
in their mouths to gurgle when any one spoke to them. 
They thought they should be Nightingales too. The 
lackeys and chambermaids said that they were satisfied 
too. That was saying a good deal, for they are the most 


174 THE FIVE SENSES 

difficult to please. In short, the Nightingale was a suc- 
cess. 

It was now to remain at court, to have its own cage, 
with liberty to go out twice every day and once at night. 
Twelve servants were sent with the Nightingale when it 
went out, each had a tight silken string fastened to the 
bird’s leg. There was really no pleasure in an outing 
of that kind. 

The whole city spoke of the wonderful bird, and when 
two people met, one said nothing but “Nightin,” and 
the other said “gale!” Eleven peddlers’ children were 
named after the bird, but not one of them could sing a 
note. 

One day the Emperor received a large parcel, on 
which was written “The Nightingale.” 

“Here we have a new book about this famous bird,” 
said the Emperor. 

But it was not a book; it was an artificial nightingale, 
which was to sing like a natural one. All over it were 
diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. As soon as the bird 
was wound up, it could sing and then its tail moved up 
and down, and shone with silver and gold. Round its 
neck hung a little ribbon, and on that was written, “The 
Emperor of China’s Nightingale is poor compared to that 
of the Emperor of Japan.” 

“That is very good!” said they all, and he who had 
brought the artificial bird immediately received the 
title. Imperial Head-Nightingale-Bringer. 


THE NIGHTINGALE 


175 


‘‘Now they must sing together; what a duet that will 
be!” 

So they had to sing together; but it did not sound very 
well, for the real Nightingale sang in its own way, and 
the artificial bird sang waltzes. 

“That is not its fault,” said the Play Master; “it’s 
quite perfect, and very much to my taste.” 

Now the artificial bird was to sing alone. It had just 
as much success as the real one, and then it was much 
handsomer to look at — it shone like bracelets and breast- 
pins. 

Three-and-thirty times over did it sing the same piece, 
and yet was not tired. The people would gladly have 
heard it again, but the Emperor said that the living 
Nightingale ought to sing something now. But where 
was it? No one had noticed that it had flown away out 
of the open window, back to the greenwood. 

All the courtiers spoke against the Nightingale, and 
said that it was a very ungrateful creature. 

“We have the best bird, after all,” said they. 

And so the artificial bird had to sing again, and that 
was the thirty-fourth time that they listened to the same 
piece. For all that they did not know it quite by heart, 
it was so very difficult. The Play Master praised the 
bird most; yes, he said that it was better than a real 
nightingale, not only its plumage and the many beauti- 
ful diamonds, but inside as well. 

“For you see, ladies and gentlemen, and above all, 


176 


THE FIVE SENSES 


your Imperial Majesty, with a real nightingale you can 
never be sure of what is coming, but in this artificial 
bird everything is settled. You can explain it. You 
can open it, and make people understand where the 
waltzes come from, how they go, and how one follows 
up another.” 

‘'That is what we think, too,” they all said. 

The people were to hear it sing too, the Emperor com- 
manded. And they did hear it, and were as much pleased 
as if they had all had too much tea, and they all said, 
“O!” and held up their forefingers and nodded. But 
the poor Fisherman, who had heard the real Nightingale, 
said, — 

“It sounds pretty enough, but there’s something want- 
ing, though I know not what!” 

The real Nightingale was banished from the country 
and empire. The artificial bird had its place on a 
silken cushion close to the Emperor’s bed. All the 
presents it had received, gold and precious stones, were 
ranged about it. In title it had advanced to be the 
High Imperial After-Dinner-Singer, and in rank, to 
Number One on the left hand; for the Emperor con- 
sidered that side the most important on which the heart 
is placed, and even in an emperor the heart is on the left 
side. And the Play Master wrote a work of five-and- 
twenty volumes about the artificial bird. The book was 
very learned and very long, full of the most difficult 
words. But yet all the people said that they had read 


THE NIGHTINGALE 


177 


it, and understood it, for fear of being thought stupid, 
and having their bodies trampled on. 

So a whole year went by. The Emperor, the court, 
and all the other Chinese knew every little twitter in 
the artificial bird’s song by heart. But just for that 
reason it pleased them best — they could sing it them- 
selves, and they did so. The street boys sang, ''Tsi- 
tsi-tsi-glug-glug!” and the Emperor himself sang it too. 
Yes, that was certainly pleasant. 

But one evening, when the artificial bird was sing- 
ing its best, and the Emperor lay in bed listening to it, 
something inside the bird said, ''Whizz!” Something 
cracked. "Whir-r-r!” All the wheels ran round, and 
then the music stopped. 

The Emperor immediately sprang out of bed, and 
had his own physician called; but what could he do? 
Then they sent for a watchmaker, and after a good deal 
of talking and looking, it was put into something like 
order. But the watchmaker said that the bird must be 
treated carefully, for the barrels were worn, and it 
would be impossible to put new ones in in such a way 
that the music would go. Only once in a year was the 
bird to sing, and that was almost too much. But then 
the Play Master made a little speech, full of heavy 
words, and said this was just as well — and so of course 
it was as well. 

Now five years had gone by, and a real grief came 
upon the whole nation. The Chinese were fond of their 


178 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Emperor, and now he was ill, and could not, it was said, 
live much longer. Already a new Emperor had been 
chosen, and the people stood out in the street and asked 
the Cavalier how their old Emperor did. 

‘T!” said he, and shook his head. 

Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his great gorgeous 
bed. The whole court thought him dead, and each one 
ran to the new ruler. The chamberlains came out 
to talk it over, and the ladies’-maids had a great coffee 
party. All about, in the halls and passages, cloth had 
been laid down so that no footstep could be heard, and 
therefore it was quiet there, quite quiet. 

But the Emperor was not dead yet. Stiff and pale he 
lay on the gorgeous bed, with the long velvet curtains 
and the heavy gold tassels. High up, a window stood 
open, and the moon shone in upon the Emperor and the 
artificial bird. 

'‘Music! music!” cried the Emperor. "You little 
precious golden bird, sing, sing! I have given you gold 
and costly presents ; I have even hung my golden slipper 
around your neck — sing now, sing!” 

But the bird stood still; no one was there to wind it 
up, and it could not sing without that. 

Then there sounded from the window, suddenly, the 
most lovely song! It was the little live Nightingale, 
that sat outside on a spray. It had heard of the Em- 
peror s sad plight, and had come to sing to him of com- 


THE NIGHTINGALE 


179 


fort and hope. As it sang the blood ran quicker and 
more quickly through the Emperor’s weak limbs. 

''Thanks ! thanks !” said the Emperor. "You heavenly 
little bird; I know you well. I banished you from my 
kingdom and empire; how can I now reward you?” 

"You have rewarded me!” answered the Nightingale. 
"I drew tears from your eyes, when I sang the first 
time — I shall never forget that. Those are the jewels 
that rejoice a singer’s heart. But now sleep and grow 
fresh and strong again. I will sing you something.” 

And it sang, and the Emperor fell into a sweet slum- 
ber. Ah! how mild and refreshing that sleep was! 
The sun shone upon him through the windows, when 
he awoke, well. Not one of his servants had yet re- 
turned, for they all thought he was dead; only the 
Nightingale still sat beside him and sang. 

"You must always stay with me,” said the Emperor. 
"You shall sing when you please; and I’ll break the artifi- 
cial bird into a thousand pieces.” 

"Not so,” replied the Nightingale. "It did well as 
long as it could; keep it as you have done till now. I 
cannot build my nest in the palace to dwell in it, but let 
me come when I feel the wish. I will sit in the evening 
on the spray by the window, and sing so that you will 
be glad and thoughtful at once. I will sing of those 
who are happy and of those who suffer. The little sing- 
ing bird flies far around, to the poor fisherman, to the 


i8o 


THE FIVE SENSES 


peasant’s roof, to every one who dwells far away from 
you and from your court. I will come and sing to you 
— but one thing you must promise me.” 

''Everything!” said the Emperor. 

"I beg of you to tell no one that you have a little bird 
who tells you everything. Then things will go all the 
better.” 

So that was how it was agreed and the Nightingale 
flew out. 

The servants came in to look to their dead Emperor, 
and — yes, there he stood, and the Emperor said "Good 
morning!” 


HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 


THE FIVE SENSES 


i8i 


WHAT THE BIRDS HEARD FROM FRANCIS 

A STORY is told of how a good and holy man named 

^ Francis once preached to the birds. 

As Francis was going on his way he heard a great 
twittering of birds. And there a little way off in a field 
was a whole flock of swallows sitting, with their eyes on 
him. 

''Wait for me, here,” said he to the people with him, 
"while I go preach to my little sisters, the birds.” 

And he went into the field and began to preach to 
the birds on the ground. Those on the trees flew down 
and all Were still and quiet together. 

"My little Sisters and Birds,” said Francis, "much 
do ye owe to God, who made ye. And alway in every 
place ought ye to praise Him. Ye sow not, nor reap, 
and God feedeth you and giveth you the streams and 
fountains for your drink. He giveth you the mountains 
for your refuge and the high trees whereon to make your 
nests. And because ye know not how to spin or sew 
God clotheth you and your children. By this ye may 
know, your Maker loveth you much. And therefore, my 
little sisters, seek always to give praises unto God.” 

When Francis stopped, all the birds began to open 


i 82 the five senses 

their beaks and stretch their necks and spread their 
wings and bow their heads. By their acts and their songs 
they showed joy at what Francis had said to them. He 
went on his way wondering at their good heed and 
sweet friendliness and singing. 




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-^'31 



THE FIVE SENSES 


1B5 


THE DRAGON FLY 

NE day when a little water baby named Tom was 
swimming about in a pool he saw sitting under the 
bank a very ugly, dirty creature, about half as big as 
himself. It had six legs, and a big stomach, and a most 
ridiculous head with two great eyes and a face just like 
a donkey’s. 

“Oh,” said Tom, “you are an ugly fellow to be sure!” 
and he began making faces at it. And he put his nose 
close to it, and hallooed at it, like a very rude boy, 
when, hey presto! All the thing’s donkey face came off, 
and out popped a long arm with a pair of pincers at the 
end of it, and caught Tom by the nose. It did not hurt 
him much; but it held him tight. 

“Yah, ah! Oh, let me go!” cried Tom. 

“Then let me go,” said the creature. “I want to be 
quiet. I want to split.” 

Tom promised to let it alone and the creature let go. 
“Why do you want to split?” said Tom. 

“Because my brothers and sisters have all split, and 
turned into beautiful creatures with wings; and I want 
to split too. Don’t speak to me. I am sure I shall split, 
I will split!” 


THE FIVE SENSES 


1 86 

Tom stood still, and watched it. And the thing 
swelled itself, and puffed, and stretched itself out stiff, 
and at last — crack, puff, bang! it opened all down its 
back, and then up to the top of its head. 

And out of its inside came the most slender, elegant, 
soft creature, as soft and smooth as Tom; but very pale 
and weak, like a little child who has been ill a long time 
in a dark room. It moved its legs very feebly. Then it 
began walking slowly up a grass stem to the top of the 
water. 

Tom was so astonished that he never said a word: but 
he stared with all his eyes. And he went up to the top 
of the water too, and peeped out to see what would 
happen. 

As the creature sat in the warm bright sun, a wonder- 
ful change came over it. It grew strong and firm. The 
most lovely colors began to show on its body, blue and 
yellow and black, spots, bars, and rings. Out of its back 
rose four great wings of bright brown gauze. And its 
eyes grew so large that they filled its head, and shone 
like ten thousand diamonds. 

“Oh, you beautiful creature!” said Tom; and he put 
out his hand to catch it. 

But the thing whirred up into the air, and hung poised 
on its wings a moment, and then settled down again by 
Tom, quite fearless. 

“No!” it said, “you cannot catch me. I am a dragon- 
fly now, the king of all the flies ; and I shall dance in the 


THE DRAGON FLY 


187 


sunshine, and hawk over the river, and catch gnats, and 
have a beautiful wife like myself. I know what I shall 
do. Hurrah!” 

And away it flew into the air. 


CHARLES KINGSLEY 


THE FIVE SENSES 


1 88 


THE LOST DOLL 

I ONCE had a sweet little doll, dears, 

The prettiest doll in the world ; 

Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears. 

And her hair was so charmingly curled. 
But I lost my poor little doll, dears, 

As I played on the heath one day; 

And I cried for her more than a week, dears, 

But I never could find where she lay. 

I found my poor little doll, dears. 

As I played on the heath one day ; 

Folks say she is terribly changed, dears. 

For her paint is all washed away. 

And her arm’s trodden off by the cows, dears, 

And her hair’s not the least bit curled ; 

Yet for old time’s sake, she is still, dears. 

The prettiest doll in the world. 

CHARLES KINGSLEY 


THE FIVE SENSES 


189 


THE MOON 

O MOON, said the children, O Moon, that shineth fair.. 
Why do you stay so far away, so high above us there ? 
O Moon, you must be very cold from shining on the sea; 

If you would come and play with us, how happy we should be! 

O children, said the Moon, I shine above your head. 

That I may light the ships at night, when the sun has gone 
to bed; 

That I may show the beggar-bdy his way across the moor. 
And bring the busy farmer home to his own cottage-door. 

O Moon, said the children, may we shine in your place? 
They say that I have sunny hair, and I a sparkling face. 

To light the ships and beggar-boys we greatly do desire; 

And you might come and warm yourself before the nursery 
fire! 

O children, said the Moon, we have each allotted parts: 

’Tis yours to shine by love divine on happy human hearts; 

^Tis mine to make the pathway bright of wanderers that 
roam ; 

’Tis yours to scatter endless light on those that stay at home! 


190 


THE FIVE SENSES 


HOW THE FLOWERS KEPT TURNING 
AROUND 

TAID you ever see flowers turn around? I don’t mean 
move in the wind, but turn around, I could 
hardly believe my eyes when I first saw them do it. It 
was when I was a child. I did not really catch them at 
it. It was done before I noticed it at all. I thought 
then that they did it at night when I was fast asleep. 

Let me tell you about it. 

It was a window box of geraniums that did it. My 
father loved the flowers. So when the cold weather 
came, he had them brought in from the garden to his sick 
room, where he lay in bed. I was in the room when the 
gardener placed them in the sunny south window. They 
were great big plants with splendid red flowers glowing 
out from the dark green leaves. 

But out in the garden it was potting time. The gard- 
ener was digging up and putting into pots all the flowers 
that must be kept indoors during the winter. I liked 
to be with him. And so for a few days I thought no 
more of father’s geraniums. 

All of a sudden I noticed one morning, when I 
went into father’s room, that the geraniums had turned 


THE FLOWERS KEPT TURNING 191 

their backs on father, and were looking out of the win- 
dow. 

'‘Father,” I cried, "have the geraniums and you 
quarreled? They look as if they were saying that rude 
rhyme, 

‘Speak to my back, 

My face is engaged; 

I’m a young lady, 

And you’re an old maid.’ 

But they’re wrong. You are not an old maid; you’re a 
father! Geraniums don’t know much, do they, father? 
I suppose it’s because they haven’t real heads. Flower 
heads can’t think out things, can they?” 

Father laughed, and said, "How about children’s 
heads? Do they know much? Let me see whether a 
certain child’s head — I knew, of course, he meant mine 
— can find out about my geraniums.” 

He told me to call the gardener. And he had the 
gardener turn the box of geraniums so that the flowers 
and leaves faced in. Then he told me to keep an eye 
on them. 

"See whether those red heads will turn their faces 
away again,” said he. "And see whether those leaves 
will turn their green backs on me. And if you hear us 
quarreling,” said he, whispering and winking at me, 
"tell me what it was all about.” 

At this the gardener gave a great guffaw — that means 


192 


THE FIVE SENSES 


a loud laugh — then clapped his hand over his mouth, and 
went out chuckling. 

I sat down at once to watch the geraniums. I kept 
my eye glued on them while I counted sixty, five times. 
That, as every child knows, was five whole minutes. 
But I didn’t see them budge. 

“They’re friends now with you, father,” said I, “they 
will not turn their backs on you again.” 

“Ha,” said my father, “won’t they? You’d better 
watch them. And keep your ears open for that quarrel. 
That’s a bold-looking fellow there in the middle. Keep 
a sharp watch out on him.” 

I did while I counted sixty, three times more. They 
still looked straight at father. So I gave it up for that day. 

For, out in the garden it was now bulb time. The 
gardener was putting down into the earth tulip and 
hyacinth bulbs. He said they would lie under the snow 
warm and growing. He said that after the winter had 
passed they would rise out of the earth and bud and 
bloom in glory. It was wonderful to hear. So I stayed 
outdoors a good deal with the gardener. That’s how I 
forgot those geraniums for some days again. 

If you’ll believe me, when I went into father’s room, 
one morning, I saw they had done it again. They had 
turned their backs and were looking out of the window. 

I couldn’t speak with surprise. I looked at father. 
He was laughing fit to burst his sides. 


THE FLOWERS KEPT TURNING 


193 


‘‘You quarreled in the middle of the night!” said 1. 

“Not unless we did it in a dream,” said he, ‘T slept 
as sound as a top. You have always heard how sound 
that is.” 

“You just wait,” said I to those red-headed geraniums. 
“ITl find you out yet.” 

They had been watered, and the drops still on them 
sparkled and glistened in the sunshine. It looked to 
my eyes as if those geraniums were winking and laugh- 
ing at me. If I could only see their saucy faces! 

“Put on your thinking cap,” said my father. 

I did, and thought hard. 

“Perhaps they like to look out the window,” thought 
I, aloud. 

“You’re getting warm,” said my father. By that I 
knew I was coming to it. As every child knows, 
that’s what they say in the game of Hide-the-Thimble, 
when you go near the hiding-place. But I couldn’t get 
nearer the geraniums’ secret. 

“What do you see streaming in through the window?” 
asked father. 

“Sunshine,” I answered, turning toward him. 

I caught such a knowing look on father’s face! But 
he put it off at once. 

‘'Think that over,” said he, “and you’ll soon be hot 
and then burning.” That’s from the game again. 

In a minute, I cried out, “Ha, ha. I’ve found you out, 


194 


THE FIVE SENSES 


you red-headed geraniums. You don’t mean to turn 
your backs on father. You’re turning to the 1 — ” 

"'You’re burning!” burst in father, not waiting for me 
to say "light.” 

So now I had their secret and they could no longer 
laugh at me. 

ANGELA M. KEYES 

Perhaps you too have found out that flowers turn 
toward the light. Once I planted a ring of sweet Wil- 
liams around a flower bed. Every flower faced out to 
catch as much light and sunshine as possible. Once I 
moved petunias and foxglove over against the fence. 
Soon every flower had faced out toward the sunshine. 
You know, of course, how the sunflowers got their name. 
They follow the sun as if he were their master. He 
moves across the heavens from sunrise to sunset, and 
they turn toward him their brown faces framed in yellow 
locks. 


THE FIVE SENSES 


195 


ROMANCE 

I SAW a ship a-sailing, 

A-sailing on the sea; 

Her masts were of the shining gold, 

Her deck of ivory; 

And sails of silk, as soft as milk. 

And silvern shrouds had she. 

And round about her sailing. 

The sea was sparkling white. 

The waves all clapped their hands and sang 
To see so fair a sight. 

They kissed her twice, they kissed her thrice. 
And murmured with delight. 

Then came the gallant captain, 

And stood upon the deck; 

In velvet coat, and ruffles white. 

Without a spot or speck; 

And diamond rings, and triple strings 
Of pearls around his neck. 

And four-and-twenty sailors 

Were round him bowing low; 

On every jacket three times three 
Gold buttons in a row; 


196 


THE FIVE SENSES 


And cutlasses down to their knees; 

They made a goodly show. 

And then the ship went sailing, 

A-sailing o’er the sea; 

She dived beyond the setting sun, 

But never back came she. 

For she found the lands of the golden sands. 
Where the pearls and diamonds be. 

GABRIEL SETOUN 


THE FIVE SENSES 


197 


WHAT HAPPENS TO THE FLOWERS IN 
SUNNY AND IN WET WEATHER 

<<T^ID you know,” said the Weather Vane, “that 
flowers come out in sunny spring weather*? And 
they wear their brightest colors too.” 

The children stopped playing and looked up at him. 

“That’s just like children,” he cried, facing out to 
speak to the world, “when they get past being babies 
some of them turn into boobies. Don’t stand there star- 
ing at me stupidly with your mouths open!” cried he, 
turning back to them. “Why don’t you ask me what 
they do when it isn’t sunny spring weather?” 

“Oh,” said Nan, “were you speaking to us? You hold 
your head so high we didn’t think you knew we are here.” 

“And if you didn’t think I was talking to you, why did 
you listen? Where are your manners? Tell me that,” 
cried the Weather Vane. And he whirled about in the 
wind so fast that the children thought he must fly off the 
post. 

“Well,” said Nan, “of course we know it isn’t polite 
to listen when grownups talk.” 

“Especially if they whisper,” said Ned. 

“Or say, ‘Little pitchers have big ears,’ ” said Nell. 


198 


THE FIVE SENSES 


‘‘But your voice was so sort of creaky,” said Ned. 

“Hush!” said Ndl; “he won’t like that.” 

“What you said was so interesting,” said Nan. 

“Well, well, no more about it!” said the Weather 
Vane. “Let us go on with the conversation.” He 
waited with his head held high. 

Nan was a bright child. After a minute she remem- 
bered to ask, “What do the flowers do when it isn’t sunny 
spring weather?” 

“They go in when it is wet and cold,” said the Weather 
Vane, now in good humor. 

“Is this a fairy tale?” asked Ned 

“No, it isn’t,” snapped the Weather Vane. “So of 
course I don’t mean that like boys and girls, or cats and 
hens, they can walk in and out on two legs or four legs 
or any legs at all.” 

“Of course not,” said Nan. 

“What do you mean?” said Ned. 

“Use your eyes,” said the Weather Vane, sharply, 
“and you’ll soon find out. This is a sunny spring day, 
isn’t it?” 

“Yes, indeed,” cried Nell; “it is beautiful outdoors.” 

“Then the daisies and buttercups are out. Go over 
into that field and see for yourself. Every daisy stands 
up out of the long grass. Its golden heart with the pure 
white rays coming from it is wide open.” 

“Ah, I’ve seen daisies, Mr. Weather Vane,” said Nan, 
“when they looked just as you say. They were so lovely 


WHAT HAPPENS TO THE FLOWERS 199 

i 

I had to pick them. But how about the buttercups?” 
said she. 

The Weather Vane was so pleased she knew what to 
ask that he turned toward her. Ned said the wind blew 
him around so that he had to go, but what of it? That’s 
a Weather Vane’s way of turning. 

“Every buttercup, too,” said he, “stands straight up 
and holds wide open a shining gold flower cup.” 

“I must see that,” said Nell, “please, Mr. Weather 
Vane, don’t tell any more till I get back.” 

Away she went as fast as her legs would carry her. 

“I’ll go too, if you don’t mind being left alone for a 
little while,” said Nan. Ned had already gone. 

“Off with you,” said the Weather Vane. “I am not 
lonely. I look out on the world and I have my 
thoughts.” 

So Nan too ran off to the field. 

Pretty soon back they came, crying, “It is just as you 
say, Mr. Weather Vane.” 

“I never saw the clover heads so red and big,” said 
Nell, “they looked open too.” 

“And my eye!” said Ned, “you should have seen all 
the winged creatures that rose up from those flowers. I 
wish I had had a net with me. I could have caught 
thousands of gnats, blue flies, speckled flies, green flies, 
yellow jackets. And talk of gorgeous butterflies! I 
missed my chance, old fellow, without that net.” 

The Weather Vane made no sign. 


200 


THE FIVE SENSES 


‘‘O, Ned, Fm glad the creatures are free,” cried Nell 
and Nan together. 

'Terhaps a yellow jacket or two might have done him 
good,” said the Weather Vane, as if to himself. ''A 
warm sting might teach him kindness and better man- 
ners.” He didn’t think it respectful of Ned to call him 
‘‘old fellow.” He turned his back on Ned and spoke 
only to Nell and Nan. “While you were gone,” said he, 
“I looked at your mother s tulips. They too are out in 
this sunny weather.” 

The children turned to look. 

“You are right,” said Nell, “how you do see things!” 

“It gives me a great deal of pleasure,” said the 
Weather Vane. “Do you see those splendid open red 
tulips streaked with blue? They look to me like glow- 
ing goblets held up between cool green hands. Perhaps 
flower folk living in the brown earth have thrust them 
up to show what lovely things the earth hides.” 

“You said this isn’t a fairy tale,” said Ned. But the 
Weather Vane kept his back to him as if he had not 
heard. 

“I like the red and yellow tulips best,” went on Ned. 
“My, but they’re gay!” 

“Oh, do look at mother’s pansy bed,” cried Nan; 
“every face looks as if it were smiling out at a leafy 
doorway.” 

“Yes, it does,” said the Weather Vane, in a pleased 
tone. It was plain he liked Nan. 


WHAT HAPPENS TO THE FLOWERS 


201 


“The pansies are wearing their handsomest yellow and 
purple velvets, too,” said Nell. “I wonder whether 
flowers put on their loveliest colors when they expect 
visitors? We do, you know.” 

“Huh!” said Ned, “what an idea! What visitors 
would flowers have?” 

“There go two yellow butterflies now into those big 
red clovers,” cried the Weather Vane, turning around 
just in time to see them. “Perhaps they are flower vis- 
itors.” 

“And before they go the clovers give them honey, in- 
stead of ice-cream, as mamma gives her visitors,” said 
Nell. “Isn’t it fun to think the butterflies are calling 
on the clovers?” 

“I suppose you’ll be saying next that because they fly 
through the air when they go calling, they go in air 
ships,” said Ned. “There would be some fun in think- 
ing that.” 

“Oh, Ned, how splendid!” said Nell, clapping her 
hands. “Don’t you wish you were a light little elf man 
and could get aboard?” 

“I see hundreds of air ships flying from flower to flower 
in that field,” cried Ned. “What fun if they should 
bump into one another!” He was so excited that he 
shouted as if the others were deaf. 

“Sh!” said Nan; “Mr. Weather Vane is trying to make 
himself heard.” 

“Fire away, old pal,” said Ned. 


202 


THE FIVE SENSES 


‘It’s a pity,” said the Weather Vane, turning his back 
again on Ned, “that the yellow jacket hadn’t a chance 
at that boy.” 

“In cold wet weather,” said he to Nell and Nan, “you 
will see a great change in the flowers. Watch for it. 
Good morning.” 

“Good morning,” at once answered Nan, politely. 
But she waited for him to go on. So did Nell and Ned. 
Not another word did the Weather Vane say. 

“Perhaps I should ask a question,” said Nan. And 
she did. “What change comes over the flowers in cold 
wet weather?” .said she. 

But the Weather Vane said never a word. 

“Stuck up thing!” said Ned, spitefully. 

“Sh!” said Nell; “I suppose he means the conversation 
is over.” 

“Yes, and he wants us to find out something for our- 
selves,” said Nan. “That’s just as if it were a secret. 
And it’s always better fun to find out secrets than to be 
told them.” 

The Weather Vane turned at once toward Nan as if he 
agreed with her. But he spoke no word. 

So the children left him to his thoughts. 

Well, whether the wind made it up with the Weather 
Vane or not, no one knows. But the very next day was 
cold and wet. Sure enough, in went the flowers. 

The children saw it plainly. They themselves had to 
stay indoors, but from the front window they could look 


WHAT HAPPENS TO THE ELOWERS 


203 


out on the garden, and from the side window, on the 
field. The Weather Vane was outdoors at his post, 
pointing east. And he saw it too. 

In field and garden the flowers no longer stood forth 
gaily in their brightest colors. Buttercups and daisies 
bent on their slender stalks and drew themselves to- 
gether. The pansies drooped and shrank and pulled to- 
gether their velvet gowns. 

‘'And O, Nell,” cried Ned, “there are no air ships tak- 
ing callers from flower to flower.” 

“No,” said Nell, “perhaps it is too wet for the callers 
to be out.” 

“Huh! what an idea,” cried Ned; “I wonder you don’t 
say it is a pity little elf men don’t sell them umbrellas.” 

“Oh, oh,” cried Nell, dancing about, “wouldn’t that 
be fun ! I suppose toadstools would be too heavy.” 

“What in the world are you children talking about?” 
asked their mother. “It sounds like a charming 
story.” 

“Dear mother,” said Nan, “it’s about how flowers come 
out in their brightest colors in sunny warm weather and 
go in when it is cold and wet. The Weather Vane told 
us about it.” 

“Yes,” cried Nell, “and how gnats and flies and bees 
and butterflies go calling on the flowers.” 

“In air ships,” shouted Ned. “Don’t forget that.” 

“Well, of course, mother,” said Nan, “that’s only Nell 
and Ned’s fun. But see! the flowers have gone in to- 


204 THE FIVE SENSES 

day and there are no insects flying into them to sip their 
honey.” 

Then their mother told them a very interesting thing 
about flowers. She said that when the flowers open wide 
in their brightest colors in sunny warm weather, the in- 
sects see them and fly in to get the honey. But the in- 
sects carry off something else besides honey. It is a fine 
golden dust called pollen. It falls on the insect as he 
drinks. Away it goes with him to the next flower. 
Here it may help to ripen a new seed. By and by this 
new seed will take root or be planted. And lo, soon it 
springs up into another flower. 

''It’s wonderful, isn’t it, mother,” said Nan. 

"But hear the rest of it,” answered her mother. "In 
cold wet weather the insects stay at home. The flowers 
can send no pollen by them. So it is just as well, isn’t 
it, that they go in? Besides, the rain or cold might harm 
them.” 

"Who’d think flowers had such sense!” said Fred. 

"I think it is God who is wise,” said Nan. 

Her mother kissed her. It was plain she as well as the 
Weather Vane thought Nan a good child. 

Well, the next day was bright and sunny again. As 
soon as they were up the children sought out the 
Weather Vane. They did most of the talking this time, 
and he asked the right question. 

When he heard what their mother had told them about 
the flowers and insects, he too said it was wonderful. 


WHAT HAPPENS TO THE FLOWERS 


205 


‘Tt fills me with thoughts/" said he. 

They took this as a hint for them to go. So they went. 
And that was the very end of this conversation. 

ANGELA M. KEYES 


206 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE PEDLAR’S CARAVAN 

I WISH I lived in a caravan, 

With a horse to drive, like a pedlar-man! 

Where he comes from nobody knows, 

Or where he goes to, but on he goes ! 

His caravan has windows two. 

And a chimney of tin, that the smoke comes through ; 
He has a wife, with a baby brown, 

And they go riding from town to town. 

Chairs to mend, and delf to sell ! 

He clashes the basins like a bell; 

Tea-trays, baskets ranged in order. 

Plates with the alphabet round the border ! 

The roads are brown, and the sea is green. 

But his house is just like a bathing-machine; 

The world is round, and he can ride, 

Rumble and splash, to the other side ! 

With the pedlar-man I should like to roam. 

And write a book when I came home; 

All the people would read my book, 

Just like the travels of Captain Cook ! 

WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS 


THE FIVE SENSES 


207 


WHAT I SAW A SPARROW DO 

/^NE morning I saw a mother sparrow teaching her 
young one to fly. 

The young one was sitting close to the ground, with 
his eyes on his mother. The mother flew a little way 
and looked back at the youngster. He fluttered his 
wings and flew to her. How proud the mother was! 
She held her small head high. Her plumage at once 
looked sleeker, and her bright eyes shone. 

Then while the young one rested she began to bustle 
about with a motherly air. She hopped along the 
ground, glancing this way and that searching for some- 
thing. Down she dipped her head and she had in her 
beak what looked like a grass seed. Over she flew to the 
little one and placed it in his beak. When the young 
one had eaten it the mother took another flight and the 
young one spread his weak wings and followed. 

I kept very quiet, not to interrupt the lesson and to 
get as near as possible to mother and pupil. I don’t 
think the mother would have stopped to notice me any- 
way. So I got near enough to see a good deal. 

I saw that the mother was content to fly close to the 
ground. I saw that the young bird had to make a great 


2o8 


THE FIVE SENSES 


effort to make his wings carry him. When he stopped 
to rest I saw that he let his wings droop. Best of all, 
I saw the mother actually put the food into the young 
one’s beak. It looked as if she were kissing as well as 
feeding him. 

The lesson went on. Soon the young one did so 
well that the mother tried him with a longer flight. She 
flew across the trolley car tracks, clear over to the other 
side of the street. After her went the little one. But 
all the practice had tired him, and his wings gave out 
just as he reached the third track. 

Down the track came a car! “Alas ! for the little one,” 
thought I, “and alas! for the loving mother.” I looked 
about for her. She was nowhere to be seen. On came 
the car, and there lay huddled the helpless little bird. 

Just as I was rushing over to try to save him, the 
mother flew back past him. The little one followed her 
at once, and was safe. 

Do you not hope with me that the careful little mother 
will teach him so well how to make his way in the world 
that no yellow-eyed stealthy cat will ever get him? 


THE FIVE SENSES 


209 


THE BLIND BOY 

O SAY, what is that thing called Light, 

^ Which I must ne'er enjoy? 

What are the blessings of the sight? 

O tell your poor blind boy! 

You talk of wondrous things you see; 

You say the sun shines bright; 

I feel him warm, but how can he 

Make either day or night? 

My day and night myself I make. 

Whene'er I sleep or play. 

And could I always keep awake. 

With me 'twere always day. 

With heavy sighs I often hear 

You mourn my hapless woe; 

But sure with patience I can bear 
A loss I ne'er can know 

Then let not what I cannot have 

My peace of mind destroy; 

Whilst thus I sing, I am a king; 

Although a poor blind boy! 

COLLEY CIBBER 


210 


THE FIVE SENSES 


HOW THE WIND GAVE A PRIZE FOR BIRDS’ 
NESTS 

c«^"^HIS that I am going to tell you isn’t all true,” 
said Ann to three small listeners with eyes as big 
and round as saucers, ‘‘but there’s some truth in it. 
I’ve put in things I’ve seen with my own eyes — you 
know I’ve been everywhere from the top of the apple 
tree to the bottom of the dry pond — but I’ve made up 
things, too.” 

The saucer-eyed listeners said no word, so as not to 
delay the story. What did they care about how she 
had made it. The story was the thing. So they waited 
in silence, to hear it sooner. 

“One day,” said Ann, “the Wind decided to give a 
prize to the bird who had built the best and most beauti- 
ful house. 

“ ‘I must open my eyes wide to find some of the nests,’ 
said he, ‘but that shouldn’t be hard for me. I can go 
through the leafiest tree and under the most covered-up 
hole.’ 

“So he began blowing up and blowing down and blow- 
ing in and blowing out, with his eyes wide open. The 
birds knew nothing about it. 


HOW THE WIND GAVE A PRIZE 


2II 


‘‘He began at a robin’s nest. It was easy to find, far 
out on the branch of a big old apple tree. 

“ ‘H-m!’ said he, looking at it, ‘it looks rather roughly 
made. It’s plastered with mud, too, instead of with 
good sticky clay. Why, I could easily shake that nest 
down and break it apart. It’s well I came in gently. 
The builder of this nest will not get the prize.’ 

“As he blew off he saw a tiny bird hop into a little house 
perched on the top of a pole. It was a very pretty little 
house indeed with a pointed roof and two round win- 
dows in front.” 

“It’s the wren’s house that father made,” broke in one 
of the saucer-eyed listeners. “Perhaps it will get the 
prize,” said she, hopefully. 

“But the Wind would not even stop to look inside,” 
went on Ann, as if no one had spoken. “He said he 
could tell by its looks it was man-made and not bird- 
made. So it would not be fair to give it the prize.” 

“How is a bird to take the chance of a better home if 
that’s what you think!” said the same saucer-eyed lis- 
tener. But Ann let her talk. 

“Keeping his eyes on the watch the Wind next noticed 
a hole in a tree trunk. The edge looked so round and 
even that he saw at once some bird had made it. 

“Of course it had,” said the same saucer-eyed listener, 
“and the bird was a woodpecker.” But Ann let her talk. 

“ ‘Now this bird,’ said he to himself, ‘is a skillful car- 
penter. I suppose he used his beak as a chisel.’ 


212 


THE FIVE SENSES 


‘‘He blew in at the round doorway and through the 
round passage. Inside he found a pear-shaped hole 
lined with small soft chips. 

“ ‘He’s a bird with a head on his shoulders. He sees 
how to make use of his material,’ said the Wind. ‘I’ll 
certainly keep him in mind.’ With that he blew out 
again and away. 

“Next he passed by a steep mud bank pierced with 
small holes. He didn’t see a single nest, when, out from 
the holes flew the last of the young swallows still in 
them. 

“ ‘Well, well, well,” said the Wind, in greater wonder, 
‘who’d ever think those holes are nests?’ 

“He blew into several. After going in about two feet 
he came to the nests of twigs, grass, and feathers. 

“ ‘Very safe and snug,’ said he. ‘And how hard the 
birds must have worked to dig out these long passages 
and then carry in soft bedding for the nestlings. It 
shows what love can do!’ 

“Well, after this surprise, the Wind kept his eyes open 
for a nest almost anywhere. As he blew over a chimney 
he saw the chimney swift’s. It looked like a wicker 
cradle hanging from the bricks. It was firmly glued to- 
gether and more firmly glued to the bricks. 

“Ah, this is up-to-date,” said the Wind. “I must cer- 
tainly keep this in mind. There is not much fear of 
accident now from fire or smoke in the chimney. The 
fires are out for the spring and summer. And the nest 


HOW THE WIND GAVE A PRIZE 213 

will of course be empty later on. ITl certainly keep this 
in mind.” 

‘‘Have you been up on the chimney to see a chimney 
swift’s nest, Ann?” asked the same saucer-eyed listener, 
as if she didn’t believe it. 

But Ann let her talk. 

“Well, the Wind kept his eyes open and saw many 
more nests. He was very much taken with the chipping 
sparrow’s. It was cup-shaped, and lined with dark, soft 
horsehair. He was more taken with the goldfinch’s. It 
was as soft as fleece inside for the tender little nestlings; 
the mother bird had lined it with thistle down.” 

“Who won the prize?” asked another of the saucer-eyed 
listeners. She had not spoken before. “This lasts too 
long.” 

“Yes,” said the one who had broken in so often. 
“Nothing happens in it at all. It’s a very poor story. 
Nothing about breaking eggs or little nestlings sticking 
out their heads. You might have made it much more in- 
teresting.” 

“It’s too bad you don’t like it,” cried Ann. 

“Go on with it, any way, and let us hear who got the 
prize,” said the one who had not yet spoken. 

“By this time,” said Ann, “the prize lies between an 
oriole, and a humming bird. As the Wind went 
rushing along now, for it was getting late in the 
day, he knocked against a pouch hanging from a high 
branch. 


214 THE FIVE SENSES 

The pouch didn’t fall to the ground. It was an oriole’s 
nest. 

‘‘ It is strong as well as light,’ said the Wind, admir- 
ingly. It was made of fine grasses, strips, hair, down, 
all matted flat together. 

‘‘But the humming bird’s nest was daintier. It was the 
most exquisite thing the Wind had seen that day. It was 
so small he almost missed it. As he looked at it, he said, 
‘That’s the prettiest, the softest, the loveliest nest, I’ve 
seen to-day.’ 

“So the Wind gave the humming bird the prize.” 

“What was the prize?” asked that same troublesome 
listener. 

“It was good children,” snapped Ann. And she 
looked straight into those saucer-eyes. “That humming 
bird had the most polite birdlings of the season. The 
Wind sang their lullabies and made them good before 
they had a chance to grow up into rude little inter- 
rupters.” 

“What a story!” cried the interrupter. 

That’s how she had the last word. 


THE FIVE SENSES 


215 


WATCHING A FLY 

B aby Bye, 

Here’s a fly; 

Let us watch him, you and 1. 

How he crawls 
Up the walls, 

Yet he never falls! 

I believe with six such legs 
You and I could walk on eggs. 

There he goes 
On his toes. 

Tickling baby’s nose. 

Spots of red 
Dot his head; 

Rainbows on his back are spread; 
That small speck 
Is his neck; 

See him nod and beck. 

I can show you, if you choose, 

Where to look to find his shoes, — 
Three small pairs. 

Made of hairs ; 

These he always wears. 

Black and brown 
Is his gown; 


2i6 


THE FIVE SENSES 


He can wear it upside down; 

It is laced 
Round his waist; 

I admire his taste. 

Yet though tight his clothes are made, 
He will lose them, Em afraid. 

If to-night 
He gets sight 
Of the candle-light. 

In the sun 
Webs are spun; 

What if he gets into one? 

When it rains 
He complains 
On the window-panes. 

Tongue to talk have you and I; 

God has given the little fly 
No such things. 

So he sings 

With his buzzing wings. 

He can eat 
Bread and meat; 

There’s his mouth between his feet. 
On his back 
Is a sack 

Like a pedlar’s pack. 


WATCHING A FLY 


217 


Does the baby understand? 

Then the fly shall kiss her hand; 

Put a crumb 
On her thumb, 

Maybe he will come. 

Catch him? No, 

Let him go, 

Never hurt an insect so; 

But no doubt 
He flies out 
Just to gad about. 

Now you see wings of silk 
Drabbled in the baby’s milk; 

Fie, oh fie. 

Foolish fly! 

How will he get dry? 

All wet flies 
Twist their thighs. 

Thus they wipe their heads and eyes ; 
Cats, you know. 

Wash just so. 

Then their whiskers grow. 

Flies have hairs too short to comb. 
So they fly bareheaded home; 

But the gnat 
Wears a hat. 

Do you believe that? 


2i8 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Flies can see 
More than we. 

See how bright their eyes must be! 

Little fly, 

Ope your eye; 

Spiders are near by. 

For a secret I can tell, — 

Spiders never use flies well. 

Then away! 

Do not stay. 

Little fly, good-day! 

ANON 


THE FIVE SENSES 


219 


WHAT CAME INTO THE GARDEN 


HE children loved to be out in the garden. It was 



an old-fashioned garden full of nasturtiums and 
sweet William, and black-eyed Susan and bachelor’s 
buttons, all growing together. Tall hollyhocks mounted 
guard behind them, and, when the wind blew, bent down 
to be friendly. Honey bees in black and yellow velvet 
jackets came booming into it over the rocky wall covered 
with trumpet vine. The sun shone broad on it, yet 
there were shady spots for the children. The flowers 
filled it with sweet smells. It was a beautiful place to 
be. So the children spent long mornings in it. 

One morning a lovelier thing than the handsomest 
honey bee came into the garden. The children didn’t 
see it come ; their heads were bent over a story book they 
were reading. But, as they looked up to think over the 
story, they saw something dazzling. It was bronze 
green and red. 

‘Took, Alice!” cried Frank, in a loud whisper; “isn’t 
he a beauty?” 

“Hu-sh!” whispered Anna, “you’ll frighten him 
away.” 

The children kept as still as mice and spoke in 
whispers. 


220 


THE FIVE SENSES 


‘'What can it be?’’ said Anna. “It looks like a jewel 
flashing in the sun. But it is alive and it has wings. 
And, O, see that crimson spot at its throat!” 

“It’s a bird, of course,” said Frank, “although it isn’t 
much bigger than a butterfly.” 

“I don’t know,” said Anna, “there it is now over at the 
trumpet vine. I think it is sucking the flowers as if it 
were an insect. Do you notice that it doesn’t rest on 
anything as it drinks?” 

“Yes,” said Alice; “it’s wonderful, isn’t it? The bees 
must find a landing place on the flower, but it is so light 
it can feed on the wing.” 

“It is dancing on the air,” cried Anna, “I don’t think 
it is a bird at all.” 

“It looks like a bit of live motion,” said Frank, “but 
for all that it is a bird.” 

“I think it is the winged fairy of life that has come 
into our garden,” said Alice. “Perhaps it has come to 
tell the flowers they are to bloom again next spring.” 

“I wish Joe, the Bird Wizard, would come along,” 
said Anna; “he’d settle the question. Look! whatever it 
is, there it goes off into the wide world.” 

It was gone in a second. 

“It may come back,” said Alice; “let us stay here quite 
still.” 

Pretty soon who should come hobbling up the road but 
lame Joe, the Bird Wizard. The children ran to tell 


WHAT CAME INTO THE GARDEN 221. 

him all about the wonderful thing that came into their 
garden. 

“You say it isn’t much bigger than a butterfly?” asked 
he. 

“Yes,” said Fred, “but it has feathers and wings.” 

“Beautiful shining bronze green feathers,” cried Anna, 
“and a bright red spot at its throat.” 

“Ha!” said the Bird-Wizard, “a ruby spot at its 
throat.” 

“Oh, Joe,” cried Frank, “you are only teasing us. Of 
course you know what bird it is.” 

“Had it a beak?” asked Joe. 

“I don’t — ” said Alice. 

“It had,” broke in Anna. 

“Yes,” said Frank, “a long pointed beak like a needle 
that it thrust up into the flower trumpets.” 

“Ha!” said the Wizard, “and so it was the trumpet 
flowers it sucked. They’re not white now, are they?” 

“They’re red and orange color, and you know it,” cried 
Anna. “If you don’t tell us at once, we’ll call you Joe, 
the Teaser, and not Joe, the Bird Wizard.” 

“Easy now, easy now,” whispered Joe, “or you’ll scare 
the bonny bird away.” 

“Oh, Joe, where is it?” whispered Alice. “Has it 
come back into the garden?” 

The children were now all eyes, as quiet as mice. 

“Clap your eyes on that scarlet runner shading the 


222 


THE FIVE SENSES 


back porch,” said Joe. “Now he’s away to that bed of 
nasturtiums beyond.” 

“Now he’s back at the trumpet vine,” cried Fred. 

“He likes orange and red flowers, doesn’t he Joe?” 
asked Anna. 

“You’ve a head on your shoulders,” said Joe, patting 
the head. “That he does. Watch him; he can do some- 
thing a bee cannot.” 

“I know what it is,” cried Alice, “he can sip the honey 
as he dances on the air.” 

“Yes, and something else,” said Joe. “Those trumpet 
flowers hang down, don’t they?” 

“But it makes no difference to him,” cried Fred. “He 
places himself below them and sticks his bill up into 
them. Is that it?” 

“Not all of it,” said Joe. “I’ll tell you the rest. No 
matter whether the tubes twist and turn inside, he can 
twist and turn his tongue to clean out the sweet honey. 
Bees must put their tongues out straight.” 

“Don’t you think he looks like the fairy of life flash- 
ing from flower to flower,” asked Alice. 

“Well, in one way he is a fairy of life,” said the 
Wizard. “As he sips the honey, the flower’s pollen dust 
falls on him. Away he goes with it to another flower. 
And there it may help to ripen a seed. You all know 
that a seed has in it the life of a new plant. Look! off 
he goes now feasted on honey, bearing the flower’s pollen 
dust.” 


WHAT CAME INTO THE GARDEN 


223 


“And now for the name of the lovely creature, you 
dear Joe, the Bird Wizard,” coaxed Anna. 

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Joe, “so that you may greet 
the bonny bird the next time he wings this way. From 
the crimson spot at its throat, some call him the Ruby 
Throat.” 

“What a beautiful name,” cried the children. 

“Did you hear him hum?” asked Joe, with a twinkle 
in his eye. 

“How could we, when we didn’t get near enough?” 
said Fred. 

“Well, others call him the Humming Bird,” said Joe. 
“And some put the two together and call him the Ruby- 
Throated Humming Bird.” 

“That’s what we’ll do,” said Alice. 

“But not for short,” said Anna. 

“No, for short,” said Fred, “he’s the Humming Bird.” 

So now the children knew. And while they went in- 
doors to tell their mother they let Joe hobble on his way. 
Perhaps he went home to his queer hut to fish out the 
tiny empty nest of a humming bird — he would not touch 
one with eggs in it — to show it to them when next he 
passed their garden. 


ANGELA M. KEYES 


224 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE LAMPLIGHTER 

M y tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky; 

IPs time to take the window to see Leerie going by; 
For every night at teatime and before you take your seat, 
With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street. 

Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea, 

And my papa's a banker and as rich as he can be; 

But I, when I am stronger and can choose what Pm to do, 

O Leerie, Eli go round at night and light the lamps with you! 

For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door, 

And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more; 

And O ! before you hurry by with ladder and with light ; 

O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to-night! 

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 


THE FIVE SENSES 


225 


SEEING SQUIRRELS 

/^NE day in the park I saw a man feed the squirrels. 
W He was sitting on a bench near some oak trees. 
His pockets were stuffed out with nuts. 

The man made a clucking sound in his throat. After 
a minute or two down the trunk of an oak tree stole a 
little red squirrel. When he reached the ground he sat 
up on his haunches with his ears cocked for the sound. 

The man made it again. The little red squirrel stole 
forward and again sat up motionless to listen. The call 
came again and the squirrel went a little nearer. When 
the squirrel was near enough, the man held out a peanut. 
After waiting a moment, the squirrel darted up the man's 
leg, snapped up the nut, and made off with it. 

But he didn’t go far. He faced around and sat up on 
his haunches, took the nut between his paws, cracked the 
soft shell with his teeth, and nibbled the sweet fruit. 

He was back again for another and another. And so 
were his brothers and sisters and cousins. 

Some days later I came upon the same man feeding 
the squirrels. And this time, one red fellow had his nose 
in the man’s pocket, and a bright-eyed saucy brother sat 
up on the man’s knee, nibbling away at a nut. 


226 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Did you ever see a squirrel fly? It isn’t real flying. 
But every squirrel can do a little of it. This is one 
reason squirrels are not afraid to leap down from a high 
to a low branch or from tree to tree. If they find they 
haven’t leaped far enough they can spread out their 
furry bodies on the air and fly the rest of the way. The 
squirrel called the ftying-squirrel does this best. It is 
hard to catch him at it because he usually flies at night. 

You may be lucky enough some day to see a squirrel 
sleeping. Tiptoe up very softly, and you may see that 
he has used his tail as a cloak to wrap about him. 

As the cold weather comes on, you will see the squirrels 
very busy storing away nuts for the winter, in the hollow 
trunks of the trees, where they have their winter homes. 
If you watch them closely you will see that the gray 
squirrels carry away the nuts between their teeth. Their 
mouths have no pockets. 

Mr. Thoreau, a man who taught his eyes to see what 
goes on in streams and fields and trees, saw how the 
squirrels get at the seeds in pine cones. (In winter the 
hardy little red squirrel can make a meal on these.) 

The stripping of a pine cone, says Mr. Thoreau, is a 
business the squirrel understands perfectly. He has the 
key to this chest of many apartments. He does not prick 
his fingers, nor catch his whiskers, nor gnaw the hard 


SEEING SQUIRRELS 227 

solid cone any more then he needs to. He takes the cone 
in his hands, and whirls it bottom upward. Then he be- 
gins to cut through the scales where they are thin and 
soft. Each stroke of his chisel-like teeth lays bare a 
couple of seeds. He strips the cone so fast, twirling 
it as he goes, that you cannot tell how he does it, unless 
you drive him off and look at his finished work. 

The squirrels know something else. Look at the holes 
they make in the shells of nuts and you will see that they 
know just where to get at the meat. Do you? Look at 
the outside of a hickory nut and see whether you can 
tell. Can you tell by the outside of a butternut? The 
squirrels can. 

The best time to see the squirrels is after the birds have 
gone, in the fall. Then the squirrels have their time to 
frolic and frisk and work. And of course the best place 
to see them is the park and woods. You may find red 
ones, gray ones, and perhaps, but not often, a black one. 


228 


THE FIVE SENSES 


SEEING CHIPMUNKS 

c^TT7HEN you see a chipmunk you see a sign of 
^ ^ spring,” says Mr. Burroughs, the Nature 
Wizard. He comes up out of his burrow deep in the 
ground or out of his den under the rocks in March. You 
may see him running along the fences or perched on a log 
or rock near his hole in the woods. 

Did you ever notice how a chipmunk sits up with his 
hands spread out on his breast? His heart beats fast as 
he watches you. 

A chipmunk keeps the place neat around his house. 
When he digs his hole he does not leave even a grain of 
loose soil about. 

“Only once,” says Mr. Burroughs, “have I seen a pile 
of earth before a chipmunk’s den. That was when the 
builder had begun his house late in November, and was 
too much hurried to remove this ugly mark from before 
his den. I used to pass his place every morning in my 
walk, and my eye always fell upon that little pile of red 
freshly dug soil. I used to surprise the small squirrel 
furnishing his house, carrying in dry leaves of the maple 
and plane trees. He would seize a large leaf and with 
both hands stuff it into his cheek pockets, and then carry 
it into his den.” 


SEEING CHIPMUNKS 


229 

The wood folk seem to know when you intend them 
no harm. Hear Mr. Burroughs tell about a bold little 
chipmunk. 

“1 had paused to bathe my hands and face in a little 
brook, and had set a tin cup partly filled with straw- 
berries on a stone at my feet. Along came a chipmunk, 
cocked himself up on the rim of the cup, and began to 
eat my choicest berries. I did not move but watched 
him. He had eaten but two when he looked as if he 
thought he might be doing better, and he began to fill 
his pockets. Two, four, six, eight of my berries quickly 
disappeared and the cheeks of the little vagabond 
swelled. And all the time he kept eating. Then he 
hopped off the cup, and went skipping from stone to 
stone across the brook, and off into the woods. 

''In two or three minutes he was back again, and went 
to stuffing himself as before. Away he went a second 
time, and I suppose told a friend of his, for in a moment 
or two along came a bobtailed chipmunk, as if in search 
of something, but he did not find it. Shortly after back 
came the first a third time, and now began to sort over 
my berries, and to bite into them, as if to taste them be- 
fore choosing. He was not long in loading up, and in 
making off again. But as my berries were all going I 
moved away with them.” 

The little thief came and went by a different way each 
time. Was this to escape pursuit? Or was he surprising 
all his friends with strawberries? 


230 


THE FIVE SENSES 


WHAT CAME OF IT 

^^TVT OW I must be lost in the ground/’ said the Seed 
as he went into the earth. '‘But perhaps that 

is best.” 

And it was. 

The Seed took root in the ground and the ground fed 
it. Soon it sent up a tiny green shoot. The falling 
rain watered it and the sun shone on it. It looked forth 
from the ground. After a while it began to climb. 
Each day it grew larger and climbed higher. By and 
by buds appeared hidden among the leaves, like prom- 
ises of things to come. 

At last one morning the vine burst into flower, rich 
blue and spotless white, a morning glory. 

And it gave joy to you and me. 


ANGELA M. KEYES 


THE FIVE SENSES 


231 


SEEING RABBITS 

O OME people look at the ground and see things others 
^ do not. A man told Mr. Burroughs that a wild rab- 
bit had made its home in the ground near the man’s 
house. He took Mr. Burroughs out to see it. 

“There it is,” said he, pointing to a withered spot 
of grass. 

“I see no rabbit nor any sign of a rabbit,” said Mr. 
Burroughs, though as you know, he can see better than 
most people. But he goes on to tell : “The man lifted 
up the blanket of dried up grass and there was one of 
the prettiest sights. Four or five little rabbits, half the 
size of chipmunks, lay cuddled down in a dry fur-lined 
nest. They did not move or wink, and their ears were 
pressed down close to their heads. My neighbor let the 
coverlet fall back, and they were hidden again as by 
magic. 

“There was no opening into the nest; the mat of dried 
grass covered it completely. The mother, in her visits 
to them, must have lifted it and crept beneath.” 


232 


THE FIVE SENSES 


A RIDDLE 
(A Book) 

I’m new, and I’m old, 

I’m often in tatters, 

And oft decked with gold. 
Though I never could read. 
Yet lettered I’m found; 
Though blind, I enlighten. 
Though loose, I am bound, 
I’m always in black. 

And I’m always in white; 

I’m grave and I’m gay, 

I am heavy and light — 

In form too I differ, — 

I’m thick and I’m thin, 

I’ve no flesh and no bones. 

Yet I’m covered with skin; 

I’m English, I’m German, 

I’m French, and I’m Dutch, 
Some love me too fondly, 
Some slight me too much ; 

I often die soon, 

Though I sometimes live ages, 
And no monarch alive 
Has so many pages. 


HANNAH MORE 


THE FIVE SENSES 


233 


THE SHADOWS 

A ll up and down in shadow-town 
The shadow children go; 

In every street you’re sure to meet 
Them running to and fro. 

They move around without a sound, 
They play at hide-and-seek, 

But no one yet that I have met 
Has ever heard them speak. 

Beneath the tree you often see 
Them dancing in and out, 

And in the sun there’s always one 
To follow you about. 

Go where you will, he follows still, 

Or sometimes runs before, 

And, home at last, you’ll find him fast 
Beside you at the door. 

A faithful friend is he to lend 
His presence everywhere; 

Blow out the light — to bed at night — 
Your shadow-mate is there! 


THE FIVE SENSES 


Then he will call the shadows all 
Into your room to leap, 

And such a pack! they make it black, 

And fill your eyes with sleep ! 

FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN 


THE FIVE SENSES 


235 


WHAT I SAW A WASP DO 

/^NE September day Mary and I were lying quietly 
on the salt sand, when we saw a wasp at work. 
The wasp looked as if she were standing on her head, 
biting with her jaws, and cutting a little circle in the 
crust. When she had it all cut, she tugged and buzzed 
until she dug up unbroken the little round piece, about 
one-third of an inch across. She dragged this about three 
inches away. Then she went back to the spot, and dug 
out with her sharp jaws a tiny bit of soil. Holding this 
in her mouth she flew away about a foot and dropped it. 
Then she came back, dug out another bit, carried it away 
a foot or so, and dropped it. And so on. It was plain 
she was digging out a little hole, or burrow. 

As the hole got deeper, she had to crawl down into 
it, head first. It grew so deep that at last not only the 
head and forelegs, but body, long legs, wings, and all, 
went in. She had to come out of the hole of course to 
carry away each bit of dug-up soil. She always backed 
up out of the burrow. And all the while she was dig- 
ging she kept up a low humming sound. 

When the hole was deep enough — and it took a pretty 
long time, for she made it about three inches deep — she 


THE FIVE SENSES 


236 

brought back the first little bit of crust. She put it care- 
fully over the top of the burrow, and her hole was gone, 
as if no hole were there at all ! Then she flew away. 

Mary and I waited, but so long that we almost gave 
her up. 

At last back she came. But she was not empty handed, 
or, as I should say, empty mouthed! In her jaws she 
held a limp measuring-worm about an inch and a quarter 
long. 

"'See,’" cried Mary, "she is going to put the measuring- 
worm into her hole.” 

And she did. How she could tell where the hole was 
was surprising. But she went straight to the right place. 

Mary was growing excited. "See, she has put the worm 
down and is prying up the cover of the hole. She has it 
off! She is— ” 

"Ss-h,” said I, "wasps fly away when you talk too 
loudly.” 

Mary "Ssh”-ed, but she pointed a finger trembling 
with excitement. The wasp had gone down into the hole 
with the worm. Then she backed out, found the lid, 
covered up the hole, and flew away again into the weeds. 

In twenty minutes she was back, with another limp 
measuring-worm — straight to the covered hole, worm 
dropped on the ground, lid taken off, worm dragged in, 
wasp backed out, lid put on. And off she was again. 

O this was exciting! Mary fairly exploded into ques- 
tions. What are the worms for"? Are they dead? Will 


WHAT I SAW A WASP DO 


237 


she bring more? Will she fill the hole full of worms? 

Three times more the wasp brought worms. And three 
times more she put them in, in the same way. But the 
last time she didn’t come up for a long time. And when 
she did come, instead of putting on the cover, she got a 
bit of soil and dropped it on, then another and another, 
and many others. Sometimes she scraped the bits in with 
her front feet. She worked busily, making little buzzing 
leaps and flights, until she had quite filled up the hole. 

Then she did the most wonderful thing. With her 
forefeet she pawed and raked the surface until it was 
smooth. And with her jaws and horny head she pressed 
down the fine bits of soil until they were a little below 
the level. Then she brought again the little cover, and 
placed it carefully in the hollow. It fitted perfectly. 

By and by Mary and I found out what it all meant. 
The worms were not dead, only stung numb. On one of 
them there was a shining white speck. “It’s the egg!” 
cried Mary, “it’s the egg of the wasp! And the worms 
are the food for the young wasp when it hatches.” 

For days and weeks together the wasp grub will nibble 
away on the worms, until all are eaten alive! Then 
the grub will change to a winged wasp. And with her 
jaws she will dig her way out into the free air and sun- 
light. 


FROM VERNON L. KELLOGG 


238 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THE MONTHS: A PAGEANT 


Here is something your parents or schoolmates would enjoy seeing 
during the fall or winter holidays. The little ones among you will 
know how to play birds and lambs. 

If you wish you may put in a Maypole procession and dance with 
May, and a harvest dance with August. It is from 


THE MONTHS: 
A Pageant 
by 


CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 


BOYS 

JANUARY 

MARCH 

JULY 

AUGUST 

OCTOBER 

DECEMBER 


Players 

GIRLS 

FEBRUARY 

APRIL 

MAY 

JUNE 

SEPTEMBER 

NOVEMBER 


Robin redbreasts; Lambs and Sheep; Nightingale and 
Nestlings. 

Scene: A Cottage with its Grounds. 

(A room in the cottage; a fire burning on the hearth. January 
seated by the fire.) 


THE MONTHS: A PAGEANT 


239 


JANUARY 

Cold the day and cold the drifted snow, (Stirs the fire) 
Crackle, sparkle, fagot; embers glow: 

Some one may be plodding through the snow 
Longing for a light. 

For the light that you and I can show. 

If no one else should come 

Here Robin ReadbreasPs welcome to a crumb. 

And never troublesome: 

Robin, why don’t you come and fetch your crumb? 

Here’s butter for my hunch of bread, 

And sugar for your crumb; 

Here’s room upon the hearthrug, 

If you’ll only come. 

In your scarlet waistcoat. 

With your keen bright eye. 

Where are you loitering? 

Wings were made to fly! 

(Two Robin Redbreasts are seen tapping with their beaks at the 
lattice. January opens it. The birds flutter in. They hop about 
the floor and peck up the crumbs and sugar thrown to them. A 
knock is heard at the door. January opens to February. The birds 
flutter out. February has a bunch of snowdrops in her hand.) 

JANUARY 

Good-morrow, sister. 


240 


THE FIVE SENSES 


FEBRUARY 

Brother, joy to you! 

Eve brought some snowdrops; only just a few, 

But quite enough to prove the world awake. 

Cheerful and hopeful in the frosty dew. 

(She hands a few of her snowdrops to January, who goes off, 
making them up into a pretty bunch. While February stands ar- 
ranging the snowdrops in a glass of water on the window-sill, a soft 
butting and bleating are heard outside. She opens the door, and 
sees a lamb, with other sheep and lambs bleating and crowding to- 
wards her.) 


FEBRUARY 

O come — come in. 

You woolly soft white lamb: 

You panting mother ewe, come too. 

And lead that tottering twin 
Safe in: 

Bring all your bleating kith and kin. 

Except the horny ram. 

(February opens a door at the back, and the little flock files through 
into a warm sheltered place out of sight.) 

(A rattling of doors and windows. Branches are seen without, 
tossing to and fro.) 


FEBRUARY 

How the doors rattle, and the branches sway! 

Here's brother March comes whirling on his way 
With winds that eddy and sing. 

(She turns the handle of the door. It bursts open. March whirls 
in, both hands full of violets and anemones.) 


THE MONTHS: A PAGEANT 


241 


FEBRUARY 

Come, show me what you bring; 

For I have said my say, 

And must away. 

MARCH 

(At the threshold) 

I blow an arouse 
Through the world’s wide house 
To quicken the numbed earth: 
Grappling I fling 
Each feeble thing, 

But bring strong life to the birth. 

I drive ocean ashore 
With rush and roar. 

And he cannot say me nay: 

My harpstrings all 
Are the forests tall. 

Making music when I play. 

I wrestle and frown. 

And topple down; 

I wrench, I rend, I uproot; 

Yet the violet 
Is born where I set 
The sole of my flying foot, 

And in my wake 
Frail wind-flowers quake. 

And the catkins promise fruit. 


242 THE FIVE SENSES 

(He hands violets and anemones to February, who strolls away 
smelling them.) 

(Before March has done speaking, a voice is heard coming, with 
a twittering of birds. April comes along singing, and stands out- 
side and out of sight to finish her song. ) 

APRIL 
( Outside y 

Pretty little three 
Sparrows in a tree, 

Light upon the wing; 

Though you cannot sing 
You can chirp of Spring: 

Chirp of Spring to me, 

Sparrows, from your tree. 

Never mind the showers. 

Chirp about the flowers 

While you build a nest : 

Straws from east and west. 

Feathers from your breast. 

Make the snuggest bowers 
In a world of flowers. 

You must dart away 
From the chosen spray. 

You intrusive third, 

Extra little bird: 

Join the unwedded herd ! 

These have done with play, 

And must work to-day. 


THE MONTHS: A PAGEANT 


“ 243 


APRIL 

(At the open door) 

Good-morrow and good-bye: if others fly, 

Of all the flying months you’re the most flying. 

MARCH 

You’re hope and sweetness, April. 

APRIL 

I’ve a rainbow in my showers. 

And a lap full of flowers. 

And these dear nestlings aged three hours; 

And here’s their mother sitting, 

Their father’s merely flitting 

To find their breakfast somewhere in my bowers. 

(As she speaks April shows March her apron full of flowers and 
nest full of birds. March wanders away into the grounds. April 
hangs over the hungry nestlings watching them.) 

APRIL 

What beaks you have, you funny things. 

What voices shrill and weak; 

Who’d think that anything that sings 
Could sing through such a beak? 

Yet you’ll be nightingales one day. 

And charm the country-side. 

When I’m away and far away 
And May is queen and bride. 

(May arrives unseen by April, and gives her a kiss. April starts 
and looks around.) 


244 


THE FIVE SENSES 


APRIL 

Ah May, good-morrow, May, and so good-bye. 


MAY 

Eve gathered flowers all as I came along, 

At every step a flower 

Fed by your last bright shower, — 

(She divides an armful of all sorts of flowers with April.) 


MAY 


Here are my buds of lily and of rose. 
And here's my namesake-blossom, may; 
And from a watery spot 
See here forget-me-not. 

With all that blows 
To-day. 


(April strolls away through the garden. As she goes bird calls 
are heard.) 


MAY 

Hark to my linnets from the hedges green, 
Blackbird and lark and thrush and dove, 
And every nightingale 
And cuckoo tells its tale. 

And all they mean 
Is love. 


(June from the end of the garden comes toward May. May 
catches sight of her.) 


MAY 

Surely you're come too early, sister June. 


^45 


THE MONTHS: A PAGEANT 

JUNE 

Yet come I must. So here are strawberries 
Sun-flushed and sweet, as many as you please; 

And here are full-blown roses by the score, 

More roses, and yet more. 

(May, eating strawberries, goes off among the flower beds.) 

JUNE 

The sun does all my long day's work for me. 

Raises and ripens everything; 

I need but sit beneath a leafy tree 
And watch and sing. 

(Seats herself in the shadow of a tree.) 

Or if Pm lulled by note of bird and bee. 

Or lulled by noontide's silence deep, 

I need but nestle down beneath my tree 
And drop asleep. 

(June falls asleep. July, out of sight, is heard half singing, half 
calling. ) 

JULY 

(Behind the scenes) 

Blue flags, yellow flags, flags all freckled. 

Which will you take? yellow, blue, speckled! 

Take which you will, speckled, blue, yellow. 

Each in its way has not a fellow. 

(July comes along with a basket of many-colored irises slung upon 
his shoulders, a bunch of ripe grass in one hand, and a plate piled 
full of peaches on the other. He steals up to June and tickles her 
with the grass. June wakes.) 


46 


THE FIVE SENSES 


JUNE 

What, here already? 

JULY 

The longest day slipped by you while you slept : 

IVe brought you one curved pyramid of bloom, 

(Hands her the plate.) 
Not flowers, but peaches, gathered where the bees, 
As downy, bask and boom 
In sunshine and in gloom of trees. 

But get you in, a storm is at my heels ; 

The whirlwind whistles and wheels, 

Lightning flashes and thunder peals, 

Flying and following hard upon my heels. 

(June takes shelter in an arbor.) 

JULY 

The roar of a storm sweeps up 

From the east to the lurid west. 

The darkening sky, like a cup. 

Is filled with rain to the brink; 

The sky is purple and fire. 

Blackness and noise and unrest; 

The earth, parched with desire. 

Opens her mouth to drink. 

Pour out drink to her thirst, 

Her famishing life lift up ; 


THE MONTHS: A PAGEANT 


247 


Make thyself fair as at first, 

With a rainbow for thy crest. 

(August comes, with a sheaf of different kinds of grain.)' 

JULY 

Hail, brother August, flushed and warm 
And scatheless from my storm. 

Your hands are full of corn, I see. 

As full as hands can be: 

And earth and air both smell as sweet as balm 
In their recovered calm. 

And that they owe to me. 

(July goes into a shrubbery.) 

AUGUST 

Wheat sways heavy, oats are airy. 

Barley bows a graceful head. 

Short and small shoots up canary. 

Each of these is some one’s bread; 

Bread for man or bread for beast. 

Or at very least 
A bird’s savory feast. 

Men are brethren of each other. 

One in flesh and one in food; 

And a sort of foster brother 
Is the litter, or the brood. 

Of that folk in fur or feather. 

Who, with men together. 

Breast the wind and weather. 

X August sees September toiling across the lawn.) 


248 


THE FIVE SENSES 


AUGUST 

My harvest home is ended; and I spy 

September drawing nigh 

With the first thought of Autumn in her eye, 

(September arrives, carrying on her head a basket heaped higl> 
with fruit.) 


SEPTEMBER 

Unload me, brother. I have brought a few 
Plums and these pears for you, 

A dozen kinds of apples, one or two 
Melons, some figs all bursting through 
Their skins, and pearled with dew 
These damsons violet-blue. 

(While September is speaking, August lifts the basket to the 
ground, picks out fruits, and strolls off along the gravel walk, eating 
a pear as he goes.) 


SEPTEMBER 

My song is half a sigh 
Because my green leaves die; 

Sweet are my fruits, but all my leaves are dying; 

And well may Autumn sigh, 

And well may I 

Who watch the sere leaves flying. 

(October comes in briskly. He has some leafy twigs bearing nuts 
in one hand, and a long ripe hop-bine trailing after him from the 
other. A dahlia is stuck in his buttonhole.) 


THE MONTHS: A PAGEANT 


249 


OCTOBER 

Nay, cheer up, sister. Life is not quite over. 

Even if the year has done with corn and clover. 

With flowers and leaves; besides, in fact it’s true. 

Some leaves remain and some flowers too. 

For me and you. 

Now see my crops: 

(Offering them to September.) 

IVe brought you nuts and hops; 

And when the leaf drops, why, the walnut drops. 

"(October wreathes the hop-bine about September’s neck, and gives 
her the nut twigs. They go into the cottage together, but leave the 
door open. She goes out at back door; he goes to the hearth, stirs 
up the fire nearly out, and places chestnuts ready to roast.) 

OCTOBER 

Crack your first nut and light your first fire. 

Roast your first chestnut crisp on the bar; 

Make the logs sparkle, stir the blaze higher ; 

Logs are cheery as sun or as star. 

Bravely they’ll keep old Winter afar. 

Spring one soft day will open the leaves. 

Spring one bright day will lure back the flowers ; 
Never fancy my whistling wind grieves. 

Never fancy I’ve tears in my showers; 

Dance, nights and days ! and dance on, my hours ! 

(Sees November coming.) 


250 


THE FIVE SENSES 


OCTOBER 

Here comes my youngest sister, looking 3im 
And grim, 

With dismal ways. 

What cheer, November? 

(November throws her pine cones on the fire, and sits down.) 


NOVEMBER 

I rock the cradle of the earth, 

I lull her with a sigh. 

And know that she will wake to mirth 
By and by. 

(October goes off.) 

(Through the window December is seen running and leaping to- 
ward the door. He knocks.) 


NOVEMBER 


(Calls out without rising) 

Ah, here’s my youngest brother come at last : 

Come in, December. 

(He opens the door and comes in, loaded with evergreens in berry, 
etc. ) 


NOVEMBER 

Come, and shut the door. 

For now it’s snowing fast; 

It snows and will snow more and more; 
Don’t let it drift on the floor. 

But you, you’re all aglow ; how can you be 
Rosy and warm and smiling in the cold? 


THE MONTHS: A PAGEANT 


251 


DECEMBER 

Nay, no closed doors for me, 

But open doors and open hearts and glee 
To welcome young and old. 

Dimmest and brightest month am I; 

My short days end, my lengthening days begin; 

What matters more or less sun in the sky. 

When all is sun within? 

(He begins making a wreath as he sings.) 

Ivy and privet dark as night, 

I weave with hips and haws a cheerful show. 

And holly for a beauty and delight. 

And for love here's mistletoe. 

(While December sings the other Months troop in from the garden, 
or from the back. The Twelve join hands in a circle, and begin 
dancing round to a stately measure as the Curtain falls.) 


2 


THE FIVE SENSES 


THREE PAIRS AND ONE 

E ars thou hast Two and Mouth but One: 

The Intent dost seek? 

Thou art to Listen Much, it means, 

And Little Speak. 

Eyes thou hast Two and Mouth but One: 

Is the Mystery deep? 

Much thou shalt See, it means, or Much 
Thy Silence keep. 

Hands thou hast Two and Mouth but One: 

''Why?’’ dost repeat? 

The Two are there to Labor with, 

The One to Eat. 






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